The Long Walk
by dishcalledhaggis
Summary: Jean and Logan, from the very beginning...
1. Chapter 1

Logan opened his eyes, and like most times in his life, he couldn't remember where he was. He sat up, rubbing his face hard, pressing into the eyesockets to relieve the pressure of panic setting in. No matter how fierce his heart, how endless his strength and nerve, that moment of displacement never failed to utterly terrify him. Sounds of footsteps drew him to the door, and he eased it open to see children heading toward the stairs with books and backpacks.

Right. The mansion. Any day he'd get used to that fact.

He shut the door as a group of kids peered curiously at him, or more likely at the eyeball that stared right back at them. It had been three days since he arrived here with Charles and he hadn't left the room since.

The stocky Mutant surveyed the bedroom, feeling out of place. He thought about Charles Xavier's offer, a room, food, and companionship...if he chose to join the X-Men. A pang of unertainty, or hunger, gnawed at his gut as he contemplated his options. Having a place to sleep was one less concern he needed, along with having steady meals. Companionship, he wasn't sure he needed, he had certainly gotten along this far without it...

The shower was hot, and he stayed standing under the water for a long time, hair in his eyes as these thoughts chased one another round and round. Sure he was a Mutant, he had these claws and the wounds he received always healed, but was this his fight? He knew he had met and fought others like him before, but that was purely territorial. Was he ready to shed the life of solitude and enter a new one, wholly complicated and new? The gnawing in his gut persisted-hunger won out as the source, and he stepped out of the shower, dressing in his usual jeans and t-shirt.

The size of the mansion seemed to grow as he descended the many flights of stairs, making sure to move with purpose even if he walked right into a broom closet. He was hungry, he could find the kitchen by himself.

"Finding everything all right,"a lilting South-African accent met his ears.

He turned around, the white-haired Black woman smiling benignly at him. It seemed almost like she was sizing him up.

"Yes," he glanced around, now confused with the maze of doors. If the damn woman hadn't stopped him he'd be halfway to breakfast by now.

"Kitchen is that way," she untucked one hand from the guarded pose across her chest to point him in the right direction.

Logan stalked off without thanking her, positive she had been sizing him up. He was moderately short, that was true, but he more than made up for it in every other way imaginable. The kitchen was devoid of children, and he ransacked the fridge, making one sandwich out of a full package of deli meat, four slices of cheese and mustard.

"Good to see you out, Logan."

He turned and jerked his head in acknowledgement to Charles before biting into the sandwich.

"I'd like to walk you around, we don't usually prolong someone's misery with a tour when they're half dead from exhaustion."

"I'm not a dog, Charlie, I can walk myself."

"We have classes in session," Charles offered by way of reason, no way out.

"Lead the way then, Wheels."

If Logan hadn't been so keen on learning every inch of the place, he would have been annoyed with the conversation the Professor was making every so often. But possibly that was the Professor's way of integrating him into polite society, good luck to him on that one. They left the mansion, and if the size of that was daunting enough, the expanse of land around them nearly made Logan impressed. Moving down the path, they came upon two students standing a few yards apart; the male had some sort of visor on his face, Logan vaguely remembered meeting him, and the female stood with her hand hovering above a table stacked with clay discs. Logan watched as the objects torpedoed toward Scott, a red light from the visor shattering each disc into powder.

"What the-" Logan muttered.

"Practice. Scott can-"

"Yeah yeah, I remember Laser Pointer. What about that one," he jerked his head toward the redhead.

"Jean Grey, telekinetic and telepath. Have you thought about my offer, Logan?"

"I don't know about joinin' ya, Charlie. Don't exactly play well with others," he smirked.

"It isn't what you're thinking, Logan. No one wants to tame you."

"In my head again?"

"You're not impossible to read, Logan. I wouldn't go into your mind unless I had just cause."

He hadn't realized he was staring, or that the redhead, Jean Grey, was staring back at him.

"There are some things-"

"I'll get my fun from women that can stay out on weeknights," Logan tore his eyes away to give Charles Xavier a piercing stare.

"Will you join us?"

"I'm your man, Charlie."


	2. Chapter 2

The students gaped open-mouthed at Logan as he made himself seen in the mansion, though as far as he was concerned it was to learn the schedules of everyone so he knew where and when to avoid them all. They made noise, Logan didn't like noise; there were too many smells, it made his head hurt. But something Logan did enjoy was the Danger Room. When he stumbled upon that, he was like a kid with a bright, shiny, and very dangerous toy. It allowed him to push his limits, and it seemed he had very little in the way of limits.

The woman Logan had run into the other day came into the control room as Logan studied his session carefully.

"You're very talented," she commented after a moment.

"Thanks."

"You have no memory of yourself, but clearly you've retained a vast knowledge of fighting styles."

"News travels fast around here," his voice rumbled in his chest.

"He likes to keep us informed of new recruits."

"I bet," Logan snorted.

"He wouldn't have brought you here if you were a lost cause, Logan."

"What's your name?"

"Ororo, codename Storm."

"Why is that," he smirked, she looked about as fierce as a housecat.

Her eyes went white, bolts of lightning jumping between her outstretched hands.

"How's your control."

"Excellent, why."

Logan lifted his fist and unleached his claws, making her jump in the seat. If Charles had told her of them, her imagination was lacking of how they actually appeared.

"I don't want to be fried crispy because of these."

"I'll only do that if you deserve it," she managed to crack a smile through that cool exterior.

"Fair 'nough."

"Mind if I take a turn in the Danger Room?"

Logan stood up with an easy smirk. "Not at all."

Back up on the ground level, he headed for the stairs to kick back in his room with a few beers and a cigar. A chill passed over him as the stairs began to ice over, and a teenage boy came sliding down the stairs with a grin on his face that reeked of troublemaking.

"Bobby Drake, you will give those keys back to me," Jean shouted.

"No way, this is too good to pass up," Bobby iced over the door handle as he yanked the door closed behind him.

She gripped the handle, and drew back her hand from the cold. "The professor told me I could drive, you only have your permit," she muttered, looking through the side window.

Logan watched her head tilt forward, waiting for Bobby to pull out of the garage. When tires crunched on gravel, she looked to the melting doorknob, and flicked the door open. Walking out to the idling car, she opened the driver's side door with her power, and tossed Bobby out onto the gravel.

"Jean!"

Logan snorted with amusement.

"Shotgun, or you walk," she grinned.


	3. Chapter 3

Logan lay on the couch in Charles' office, tense and trying to allow his memories to let loose. If only it was that easy. He felt strange with Charles looking in on his thoughts, shying away from anything too personal if the man got too close. Deep despair clutched at his guts as he felt the Professor's presence fade from his mind once more, with nothing to show for it.

"Charlie, if you're tryin' to spare me some pain...lemme tell ya, I can take it."

"Logan, your mind is shut up tight. I've never seen such complexity. If I am not careful, I could leave you permanently damaged."

"I heal," he muttered.

"But the brain is delicate, just because you heal superficially doesn't mean-"

Logan's whole body tensed as he restrained himself from destroying the office. "I've been here three weeks, you told me you could help!"

"Until I search someone's mind, I never know how susceptible they will be."

"I'm fighting," Logan asked.

"Your conscious mind wants to know, but something in your superconscious is protecting you. Think of what you must have gone through just for them to keep you opened up to the bone to get that adamantium to adhere. Once heated its a volatile liquid, it must have been around the clock torture."

"So now you're saying I may never know?"

"There's a very real possibility, yes."

Logan felt an urge to start screaming, to tear at his hair, beat his chest, try anything to shake loose his memory. Not only did his body betray him by not aging or growing weak, his mind had redoubled efforts to stay firmly locked away from Charles' intrusive proddings. If Charles was tired of this charity case, Logan would find the money to pay. He'd do anything just to know something...anything. But he stay unmoving for a moment, letting the Professor's words sink in, and left the room in silence.

Every day that passed with no mission and no information was getting under his skin, nothing Charles promised was coming to pass, and Logan was not someone who took idle time well. Left alone with this, he could only piece together a vague identity from the behaviors he exuded, most of them not pretty. He was a fighter, a drinker, a loner; a man who lived on instinct, and never doubted his gut for one moment. A school was no place for him to be, even as generous Charles was to ask him to be there, so he fired up that motorcycle he had been eyeing from the first time he wandered into the garage, intent to put it all behind him. If Logan stealing the motorcycle didn't convince him, Charles would see in time that he had hoped for too much out of him.


	4. Chapter 4

Losing track of the days and months, he took to cage fighting for money and drinks. It was better not knowing what his mind wouldn't give up, this life worked just fine for him. Taking a seat at the bar, he looked up into the television screen and saw the first hate crime on a Mutant child being broadcast on the news.

"Freaks of nature is what they are," the bartender muttered.

"They're only children, didn't ask for it to happen," Logan was surprised to hear himself voice such an opinion. At any other time in his life he would have ignored the comment and kept to his drink.

"Got a kid like that?"

"I've got nothing. But what if your kid was that way?"

"No child of mine is going to be a freak of nature."

"Nature is what's doing that, bub," Logan cracked his knuckles.

"You don't look like no damn doctor to me," the bartender looked at Logan with irritation.

"I don't see your license to practice on the walls, either," Logan smiled grimly.

If it was Charles' urging or his own sense of duty, he stood from the stool and went right to his truck and the small trailer he hauled the motorcycle on, making the long trip back to upstate New York.

An hour before dawn, he pulled up to the gates, immediately gaining entry to the grounds. Leaving the truck outside the front door, he let himself in, more than two dozen startled eyes staring at him. There were more children, and vaguely familiar faces had lost the roundness of childhood. How long had he been gone?

"Where's Charlie?"

"Office," Scott answered.

Logan entered the room without knocking, Charles didn't comment on it, and gestured him to sit.

"I have a knack for getting information," Logan began.

"A useful talent, if you're still willing to be a part of the team."

"I don't think I'll ever be able to stay still..." Logan sat on the edge of the chair.

"I understand, Logan. You'll always have a place here."

"When I saw that thing about the kid, I knew I had to come back."

"I thought you might," Charles nodded his bald head thoughfully.

"You didn't pull a mind trick on me-"

"That was your decision alone, Logan. Now-" Charles looked up to Scott opening the door.

"I still have a paper to finish, Xavier. Do you mind if I take Logan on a tour, since he's still new and all."

"I've been fightin' long before you were thought of, Scooter."

"Whatever you say," Scott smiled.

Logan followed the lean young man down the hall, both of them silent.

"How old are you now, ten?"

"Twenty-one."

"Do you drink much?"

"I'm kept busy, with being team leader," Scott led Logan down into the lower levels of the mansion.

"Team leader," Logan repeated with amusement.

"Did I stutter," Scott arched an eyebrow above his sunglasses.

"How did you become team leader?"

"I have good ideas," Scott replied, a section of wall sliding back to reveal the team's combat suits.

"So if I have some good ideas-" Logan looked into the glass, eyebrow raised at the close-fitting leather suits the team wore. He wasn't so sure he was into that.

"You run them by me, and I'll tell you if they're worth-"

"I don't follow," Logan interrupted.

"See, you get this strange feeling in your head that is an idea and-"

"No Scooter, I don't follow anyone. Ever."

"Seems we might have some problems in the future."

"Seems so," Logan smirked.


	5. Chapter 5

On more than one occasion, he watched them all at the breakfast table, with Jean in the center of the action. He couldn't help it if the girl drew his eye, she was hard for anyone to ignore. Everyone treated her with such admiration, even the adults had respect shining in their eyes while watching Jean quietly interact with everyone. All the more when she finally turned eyes on him, and Logan felt sucked into the depths of those jade and emerald irises. The beckoning in them, the acceptance, and something akin to danger in one simple glance caught Logan by surprise. No one had that way of reaching right into his guts and twisting them up, most especially women.

Charles saw the way Logan looked upon Jean, and curiosity along with Logan's primal nature could easily lend its way to something along the lines of attraction. If Jean picked up on this, an older man showing some kind of interest in her...Charles jumped blindly to worry for the young woman.

"You wanted to see me, Professor?"

"Yes Scott, sit down," Charles wheeled around from the picture window. He seemed to take a moment before speaking. "I know how fond of Jean you are."

"She's become a good friend," Scott Summers' mouth pulled up into a cautious smile. In the years that Scott lost his family, there had been little to smile about, until Jean came along. Jean had been the first to really understand his need to lead people, to prove himself worthy.

"I was wondering, if you might keep an eye on her. She's only just found control over her powers in this last year, you know-" Charles spoke of Jean like a daughter, and to Scott like a son.

"You're worried about Logan."

"She has a big heart, and I'm afraid if she tries to help him unravel his memories-"

"It won't be a problem, you can count on me," his ruby glasses flashed with the decisive nod of his head.

"Thank you, Scott."

She was in the common room with a stack of books on the floor next to the couch, fingers flying over the laptop keyboard when Logan passed by. His session in the Danger Room seemed like it could wait because he rarely saw her alone, and Logan wasn't one for talking much anyway. Curiosity was getting the better of him, it was best if he just talked to her in order to satisfy it.

"All work and no play makes Jean a dull girl," Logan gave a dry comment.

"He speaks," she gave a half smile.

"What grade are you in?"

"I'm a junior...in college," she rolled her eyes.

"How old are you," he asked, leaning against the doorjamb.

"Twenty, how old are you?"

"Don't know," he shrugged.

"Pesky memory blocks will do that to you," she set aside the laptop and stretched.

"You're a mind reader like Charlie, right."

"Yes, and I was already told not to touch yours," she replied, her tone suggesting it wasn't something she had wanted to hear.

"Do you do everything Daddy tells you to?"

"No," she grinned.

"So what's stopping you?"

"You ask a lot of questions for someone that hasn't bothered to acknowledge me in three years," she had an irritated expression playing on her face that amused him.

"Didn't have anything to say."

"Hello works," Jean smiled.

"I won't get into grad school by reading minds," she commented, flipping pages in a textbook.

"Another time, then?"

Scott came into the room with a book on philosophy, amused that he had grown taller than the man taking up most the doorway.

"Hey Logan."

"Scott," he nodded.

"Catch me when I'm not busy," Jean spoke to Logan as Scott took a seat next to her.

Logan resumed his wandering, leaving them to study in quiet.

"I think you like the guy."

"Logan? Slim, are you crazy?"

"Hey, lots of girls have crushes on professors," he shrugged.

"They sleep with them to get good grades," she elbowed him. "He's not a professor!"

"So you'd be purely in it for fun, then."

"You are horrible, that's like saying you have the hots for Storm!"

"Well I have caught him looking at me a few times, isn't that right Summers," Storm walked into the room with a grin, Jean laughing as his cheeks became as red as the lenses of his sunglasses.

"I don't know anything about him except Charles brought him home, so there."

"Doesn't excuse the fact you like him," Scott mutttered from behind his book.

"He smokes, and he drinks."

"You have a thing for motorcycles, and he's got one."

"I don't like him! If you don't stop I'll pants you in front of everyone at breakfast!"

"Mature, for a twenty-year old college student," Scott muttered.

"I'll pants you in front of that Kate girl you were drooling over at orientation!"

"Jean!"

"Then stop saying that," she demanded.

"Okay okay, I won't do it anymore."

"Thank you."

The room went silent again, Jean taking notes while Scott read.

"Jean and Wolverine, has a nice sound to it," Scott commented and took off for the stairs.

"Scott Summers, you are gonna get a hurtin' put on you the likes of which you have never known!"


	6. Chapter 6

In the next few weeks, Logan and Jean exchanged more short conversations, mostly while she was studying alone. He was always careful to keep his distance, Logan didn't want anything less than honorable getting back to Charlie, even if he just sat next to her. It wasn't until spring break that Jean approached him. Logan was lying on his bed, enjoying a beer when he smelled her on the air.

"What do you want, Red?"

She smirked at his well-thought nickname. "Still want your mind read?"

"Finally found the time?"

"Somehow, I did," she smiled, pulling up a chair.

Logan could feel the warmth radiating off her palms as she held them just a fraction away from his skin. Apprehension filled his head with all sorts of scenarios, feeling caged in.

"Afraid of me? I'm flattered," she smiled.

"Just do it already," he growled.

Jean closed her eyes, two small lines formed between her brows as she concentrated. Logan saw the familiar images flip past his waking mind so fast it took his breath away. But as she continued on, he experienced new memories. He saw an eagle coasting on an air current, the smell of earth under his feet lacked any trace of modern machinery; a man dropping to his knees, clutching his stomach as Logan breathed heavily, claws drizzling crimson blood.

"Jean, what are you doing," Scott asked, they both looked towards him with wide guilty eyes.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, leaving his room on weak legs.

Logan and Scott stared each other down for a moment.

"I didn't touch her."

"Wasn't going to say you did," Scott smiled wryly.

"Your girlfriend was just trying to help."

"Jean isn't my girlfriend."

"No? Could have fooled me," Logan cocked an eyebrow in return.

"She doesn't do so well after using her telepathy, somebody should check on her," Scott remarked, taking his leave as well.

Logan waited as Scott's footsteps receded, then grabbed a bottle of whisky and followed Jean's scent to her room. He paused at the door, feeling like a dirty old man, and knocked on her door anyway.

"Come in."

Logan opened the door into a room much like his own, though the personal effects made a difference. College pennants and rock posters covered her walls, with pictures of other residents and family mixed in here and there. Jean was lying on her bed with the curtains drawn.

"What are you doing here?"

Logan looked around the room silently, grabbing the water glass from the nightstand.

"You ever drink," he asked, pouring the water into a potted plant on the desk.

"No, I'm not legal," her eyes dropped to the mouth of the bottle as he poured a healthy amount into the glass.

"When's your birthday?"

"September."

"Close enough, here," he held out the glass, waiting for her to take it.

She reached out a tentative hand, blinked hard when the smell hit her nose, and swallowed the drink down all at once.

"Sure you've never done that before?"

"Very," she gasped, pressing her palm to her chest.

"Feel better?"

She tilted her head, nodding after a moment. When Logan didn't leave, she looked up at him. "What did you want to ask?"

"Didn't hurt you any,"he tried to ask, but it sounded more like a command.

"No," she smiled in response, and Logan remembered he was in a young woman's bedroom.

"See ya around, Red," he muttered, capping the bottle as he left.

Logan was worrying the bottle of liquor in his hands as he went back to his room when Charles waited for him at the end of the hall. Having her in his mind left him feeling lighter, which was a strange sensation. "My office," Charles requested.

He followed Charles into the elevator hidden behind the walls of the mansion, and stood with the Professor in silence.

"Jean is a unique girl, not to mention an exceptional Mutant, but-"

"You been checkin' up on me?"

"She touched your mind," Charles replied with carefully-measured control.

"Word travels fast around here," Logan snorted. "How could I stop her?"

"You're the adult, Logan."

"She's twenty. I'd say that's an adult as well," Logan leveled his gaze on Charles.

"Don't let her read you again."

"Why not?"

"Because she could hurt you."

"How could she do that," Logan asked, unable to see where Charles was coming from.

"She has more power in just her left pinkie nail than I do in my entire body."

"You're talkin' like she's a nuclear bomb about to go off."

"I have placed blocks in her head, but if they get free, she's as good as."

"Does she know this?"

"No," Charles looked at him with an air of warning, knowing Logan would not drop the issue lightly.

"You have to tell her, Charles."

"It's best she doesn't know right now."

"I know what it's like not knowing yourself, don't put that on her," Logan snarled.

"You haven't seen the depths of her strength, Logan."

"If you don't tell her, I will."

"I'm going to give you one minute to forget that idea before I help you forget it."

"You'd brainwash me?"

"You understand her so well? How much relief do you feel that you don't know everything? All of the ugly and bad is lost, you have been given the chance to start again. Do you think she could live with herself if she knew? I want her to live, and be as happy as possible in the life I can give her."

"Sooner or later, she'll figure it out," Logan glared at Charles before walking briskly away.


	7. Chapter 7

"You didn't come to my birthday party."

Logan smirked and looked up at Jean in the doorway to the library. That was one of the last places anyone would think to look for him, but then again who could hide from a telepath? She looked grown up in her red dress, and Logan berated himself for taking too long a look at her long legs.

"Sorry Red, I don't like cake."

"You like apple pie."

"When it's good."

She sat next to him on the couch, her breath smelling faintly of champagne and frosting. Logan had barely spoken to her since that first mind-dive, never seeking her out as he realized Charles was always watching. He didn't like the choices Charles had made for Jean, but the Professor had known her much longer, and he didn't dare interfere.

"Bubbles gone to your head?"

"No."

"Here then," he handed her his glass of burbon, and laughed as she drank the whole thing.

"What!"

"I gave it to you to try."

"You have more."

"That's true," he admitted, smiling as she reached under the couch for the bottle.

"Don't you like me?"

"Why are you askin' me that," he glanced at her with his eyebrow arched.

"You didn't come to my party."

"I like you," he muttered. "What did you get?"

"Books, lots of books," she smiled.

"Only books?"

"It's what I like," Jean shrugged a slender shoulder.

"That's a lot of alone time," Logan pointed out.

"I get out every now and then."

"What do you do when you get out," he asked in a sly tone that made her clear her throat and look away.

Logan chuckled into his glass as he took another drink.

"I wanted you to be there," Jean sighed.

"Why?"

"You're part of the team, and I like you," she smiled, resting her chin on his shoulder.

"So go get me cake, birthday girl."

Jean hopped up and hit the floor, looking confused as the strong drink had gone to her head quickly.

"What-" she asked faintly.

"Lightweight. Time for bed."

"No, you want cake," she protested as he picked her up off the floor.

"I can get my own."

"I want cake before Bobby and Scott eat it all."

"Fine, we'll go and get it," he smiled, waiting for her to walk ahead.

Jean pulled the cake from the fridge with a grin, using her power to open the drawer for two forks. Lounging on the counter, she took one and speared a chocolate rose, pulling the fork clean from her mouth as she looked up at Logan.

"Will you take that already, it's annoying," she glanced at the other fork hovering in midair.

Logan stood next to her, stabbing at the cake.

"Promise you'll come to my college graduation."

"If you have apple pie, I'm there."

"Done," she smiled.

They ate in silence, the kitchen clock ticking out the seconds.

"I could use something to drink," Logan muttered thickly around a mouthful of cake, going to the fridge for milk.

"Why doesn't Charles want us to talk," she asked.

"Don't know," he came back with two glasses.

"Yes, you do," she countered, touching his leg with her bare foot.

"Jean," he sighed.

"Logan, please. I know what you think of me," she replied with a smile.

He stared into her eyes, afraid that she had been reading his mind.

"I'm a big girl, I can handle it."

"He doesn't want you to hurt yourself trying to help me with my past," he muttered, looking away so he didn't have to see her expression.

"But he doesn't even try, I know that if I just keep at it-"

"No, Jean," he spoke harshly, startling her.

"You just lied."

"How would you know what's a lie unless you're going against Charlie's orders."

"Fine, we don't need to talk at all," Jean walked past him with a withering stare even he was impressed with.

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This was Logan's element. Warfare, bloodshed, taking claim of his own. Late-night talks in school kitchens with young women, were not. He felt a fierce thrill heightening the experience and roared as he took on anyone who crossed him. The team battled their enemy, he didn't care much who it was as long as they wanted a fight.

"Where's Bobby," Jean shouted.

"I don't know, he was right here!"

Jean threw out her mind, casting it like a net. Sweat ran into her eyes as she brushed back her bangs trying to concentrate in the midst of chaos.

"Jean, don't," Storm called to her as she ran right into the thickest of the fighting.

"Logan, she's gone after Bobby!"

His eyes took on a frantic glint as he dropped the man he had just skewered and loped after Jean's scent. She didn't see the enemy coming up behind her, running to Bobby as he staggered along, blood staining his face and neck.

"Are you all right, Iceman?"

"Dunno..."

Logan cut the man down easily, grabbing Jean's arm with his guts roiling in fear and anger. She nearly lashed out at him then, sagging with relief as she realized it was Logan.

"He could have killed you!"

"I had to get to Bobby," she shouted at Logan.

"You dead wouldn't have done him any good!"

"But you were here," she pulled Bobby's arm around her shoulder.

"What if I wasn't," he shouted.

"I need to get him back," she sidestepped Logan and supported Bobby on the long walk to the jet.

Jean could smell the blood seeping through the gauze pad she held to Bobby's head. Luckily it wasn't life threatening, but it was quite deep and the sheer volume a head wound could bleed terrified him, so she stayed next to him on the ride home.  
Storm navigated the Blackbird through the twilight sky, her face always the smooth exterior.  
"I feel funny."  
"It's the blood loss, you got quite a gash on that thick head of yours. I'm afraid Josh will have to give you stitches when we get to the mansion."  
"I'm not gonna die, am I?"  
Logan heard Bobby, and looked right at Jean. He had been entertaining Jubliee with his ever-healing wounds, and along with Bobby's question he also heard Jean's heart stutter, and she broke their eye contact to look down at Bobby. It was the first time in a week she had looked at him without anger in her eyes.  
"No Iceman, you are far from dead. Just relax."  
"I'll try," he swallowed hard, eyes large and concerned.  
"Did you know Twinkies have thirty-nine ingredients," she grinned, trying to distract him.  
Logan tried to catch her eye again, but she avoided his solid stare.  
The team shuffled quietly to the infirmary, beginning to catalog wounds and bruises. Once Jean made sure that Joshua looked after Bobby first, she left the company of her wounded friends for the silence of her bedroom.  
Jean stripped off her black suit, stepping into a hot shower. All she wanted was that sinking feeling to go away, the feeling that Charles had. He felt he used Jean and the others, and now she felt that way about the students.

Logan let himself into Jean's room, easily maneuvering through the dark. Charles could lecture him to his heart's content later, force his way into all of Logan's thoughts to make sure he hadn't touched her, but right now he wanted to make sure she was okay.  
"Jean," Logan called from the open bathroom door.  
The water shut off. "Just a minute."  
"You left quick," he commented as she came out in a green towel.  
"Josh had a handle on it," she shrugged.  
"You have a good bedside manner, they could use you."  
"I can't, Logan. Not right now," she brushed a thick lock of wet hair over her shoulder.  
"Bobby is fine, you know it."  
"You heard him," she sighed, pulling out a dresser drawer.  
"If he wasn't afraid to die, I'd think there was something wrong with him."  
"You aren't afraid to die," Jean replied, going back into the bathroom to get dressed.  
"It's almost impossible for me to be killed," he smirked.  
"But you aren't afraid to die."  
"Jean...when it's our time to go, it's time."  
"But do we have to put them out there to bring their mortality that much closer," Jean moved around the dark room as easily as Logan had.  
"They choose to fight or not."  
"We don't make the choice for them," she asked harshly.  
"Do not feel guilty for him getting hurt," Logan demanded, advancing on her.  
"Answer me," she met his eyes steadily, showing no fear of him becoming angry.  
"They see what we do, we influence them. But they still choose."

"Do you feel bad about them having to fight?"

"I'd rather they know how to fight, than be victims."

The tone of her sigh suggested she wanted comforting, but Logan made no move toward her. Not even a finger twitch. He stood close, but left more than enough space between them.

"Why don't you touch anyone?"

He could only shrug, that was like asking why the sky was blue. That's just how he was.

"Even someone like you needs to be touched," she answered.

"I've gotten along fine without."

She looked at him a long moment, and Logan immediately had that under-your-skin sensation. His dark eyes widened when he realized he knew that feeling, it was how Jean felt inside his head.

"Stop reading me."

"You can finally sense me," she smiled.

"What does that mean? Have you been sneaking peeks at my mind?"

"I just wanted to know if you'd let anyone in, turns out you might not be above such things after all."

"Charles doesn't want you anywhere near my mind, you hear me?"

"He still thinks of me as a teenager, Logan. What he refuses to understand is why we are friends."

"What's there to understand?"

"Exactly," she stepped forward and put her arms around his neck.  
"Wh-what are you doing," Logan gulped, standing still. They had just discussed his lack of being affectionate, besides...the smell of shampoo and bodywash and warm skin was maddening. It had been too long since he was with a woman.  
"I don't know," she sighed.

The stiff unyielding way he held himself didn't turn her away, so he wrapped one arm around her back to rest his hand on the curve of her hip. Jean relaxed into him, and the sound of her heartbeat thumped in his head until his own matched the pace. His other arm encircled her back and he dipped his head, taking a deeper breath of her scent. They both sensed Storm place her foot on the bottom stair, and Jean pulled back.

"You'd better go. I don't want to get you in trouble with Charles."

"I don't care about what he does to me. Are you okay?"

"But I do. Go before Storm comes up," she slipped from his grip. "I'm fine now, really."

"If you need me-anything."

"I know who to go to," she smiled.


	8. Chapter 8

Logan walked into the living room just a few days after Thanksgiving to an explosion of red and green. Bobby and Scott were bemoaning their place as 'men' and therefore the stereotypical 'box haulers', while Kitty and Jean were untangling lights.

"Wolvie, will you take me to cut down a tree," Jubliee pleaded sweetly.

Jean sat in the midst of all that chaos, patiently coaxing the knots out of the wires.

"The nickname, kid," he sighed.

"Please?"

Kitty plugged the lights into the socket and Jean's face lit up not only from the strings of colored lights around her neck, but enjoying the activity. While this wasn't something Logan particularly enjoyed, having either no memory of past Christmases or recalling that it passed his notice most years, he found himself wanting to stay and suffer through it.

"All right, get your coat."

He followed the bouncing teenager out to his truck, where she happily buckled herself in and honked the horn while he took his time getting to the garage.

"Don't touch my radio," he warned in a way that only few knew he was playing.

"We need some Christmas music."

It took almost an hour to drive out to the forested area approved for cutting trees. As she leaped out of the passenger side, he called her back and snagged the long scarf she left behind on the coatrack around her neck.

"How do we do this," he asked.

"You've never done this?"

"Not one for holidays," Logan admitted.

"We go walkin' around until we find the right one, and cut it down," she opened the camper shell door and lifted out a saw.

"Where'd you get that?"

"Tool shed."

"You had me all planned out before I knew what was going on," his eyebrow arched.

"Jean said it was a good idea," Jubliee blushed.

"Oh, she did?"

"You enjoy the outdoors, and you wouldn't get lost out here."

They started to walk through the trees, Jubliee running around him in the snow like a little kid. Logan breathed in the biting cold air, his blood growing warm to the natural surroundings.

"I think I found it," she called ten feet from his left, and his boots crunched through fresh snow as he approached.

Jubliee was looking up at the fourteen foot tree with a beaming smile, her cheeks bright pink from the cold.

"Looks good," he commented.

"I'm gonna need your muscle for this part."

"Another important attribute that made me perfect for this task," he mused.

"Well, Scott could have lasered the tree down," she sassed in return.

He held his hand out for the the saw, and knelt down in the snow. After making a notch in the far side of the trunk, it took him little time to saw through, making Jubliee stand back as the tree began to topple over.

"Everyone is going to love this," she grinned at him.

"Yeah yeah," he smirked.

They tied the branches up and dragged the tree back to the truck, Logan couldn't help but smile to himself as Jubliee hummed a Christmas song.

"Nobody around," he asked to double check.

ubliee swung her neck around, and gave him the all clear. Logan grabbed the tree in both hands and hefted it easily to the roof of the truck, securing it with rope that Jubliee had also stowed away. Cranking up the heat for Jubliee, they headed back with the Christmas music playing softly on the radio.

"What do you want for Christmas, Logan?"

"I don't want anything, kid."

"But there must be something."

"It's for you young kids, you have plenty of friends to buy for," he smiled.

It was obvious she was disappointed, and Logan hated for her to feel that way. In the few months she had been at the Mansion, he had grown close to the young Mutant. The kid just wouldn't be ignored, and he admired that tenacity.

"I don't want for much, Jubliee, you know that. But if you find something, I won't throw it back at ya."

"Really?"

He nodded, getting the wind knocked out of him as she launched herself at his chest, hugging him hard.

"Let's get this tree inside," he unleashed his claws and cut the ropes, listening to Jubilee's directions as he shouldered the tree into the house. Bobby and Scott helped him set it on the stand while everyone openly admired the tree.

"You really came through, Logan," Jean smiled.

"No problem," he muttered, having so much praise put on him for cutting down a tree made him feel uncomfortable.

"This is your first Christmas at the Mansion," she pointed out.

"Yep," he gave that heavy sigh.

"It's not that bad, Logan. If you can't beat 'em..."

"Arrange to have 'em beaten," Logan smirked.

"If it ends up being as bad as you think, I'll spike your eggnog with some rum," she grinned.

"How 'bout you spike my rum with a lil eggnog."

"We'll see," she teased.

Jean came home from the city with Storm and the other girls, who all insisted on last-minute clothes shopping for the party that night. It wasn't often that the smaller factions of the X-Men got to gather together, least of all the holidays. She couldn't think of anything for Logan in the way of gifts just yet, but started with the maple leaf ornament that she hung on one of the only bare branches left on the tree.

"Come on, Jean, we only have three hours to get ready!"

Jean rolled her eyes.

"I saw that!"

"I'm comin," she laughed.

Jean walked down the stairs in her green miniskirt and black sweater, those three hours later, distracted with putting on her earrings.

Logan came from the kitchen, feeling like all the breath was knocked out of him. Jean just couldn't keep those legs of hers covered for anything. "You're gonna make everyone else look bad, Red."

She turned and smiled. "Is that a new shirt, Logan?"

A tall blond man came from the foyer, giving Logan a cocky-young-guy grin as he snuck up behind Jean.

"It's been a long time, Green Eyes."

"Angel, oh my God! I didn't know you were coming," Jean exclaimed, giving Warren a long hug.

"I'm glad I did. Let me introduce you to some of my teammates," he hooked his arm around her waist and swept her off, a pair of gleaming white wings attached to his back.

"Son of a bitch," Logan muttered.

Scott came from the garage, handing Logan a beer. "What?"

"Who's the birdbrain," Logan muttered to Scott, nodding in thanks.

"Warren Worthington the Third," Scott replied with a similar tone to Logan's. "Came here for awhile when you first left."

"Is he trouble?"

"He and Jean...get along, for whatever reason that is. Rich kid."

"Looks like the silver spoon type."

"More like gold-plated," Scott smirked.

"I'll be in the kitchen."

Jean came into the kitchen almost two hours later, giving Logan a look. "What are you doing in here?"

He glanced around to his empty beer bottles, and shrugged. "Havin' my own little party."

"Are you sure you don't want to come," she stopped at the door and looked over her shoulder.

He waved her away, watching the legs disappear in the high black pumps, and decided to follow. Logan heard her laugh, and looked over to where Warren was leaning close to her as they talked, and then gestured upward with a finger. She looked up to see mistletoe in the doorway above them, and shrugged with a smile, leaning in for a kiss on the lips. For the first time Logan felt complete jealousy seeing Jean being affectionate with another male. With Scott and Bobby it was different, they were like siblings. But this made his blood boil, his eyes narrow, and a posessive growl sound from deep in his chest.

Jean stepped out into the snow as Bobby was pelting Jubliee and Kitty with snowballs. Other students were nearby in a fight of their own, but this one looked as if it had broken off and become personal. The girls were shrieking and running all directions, but Scott easily rounded them up for Bobby to take a few more shots.

"Not fair, Jean help us!"

"You girls should know how to deal with these turkeys," she laughed.

"They called no powers."

"Oh please, play dirty already!"

The snowball flung at her shoulder was so subtle she would have brushed it off as snow melting from a tree, but she glanced over to see Logan's eyes bright with humor, and the hand at his side covered in melting snow.

"You?"

"They had rules, and you just came along and messed it up for the boys."

"You have never been one for rules, Logan. It was levelling the playing field."

Logan stepped closer to Jean, unaware of the snow behind him moving as if invisible hands were packing snow.

"Can't call time-outs in warfare."

"It's a snowball fight," she rolled her eyes, always amused by his war tactics.

"Those girls just ran to Mommy-" his sentence died as a snowball struck his head, followed by two others to the shoulder and face.

"Telekinetic," Jean shrugged with a grin, scrambling to get away from Logan as he suddenly lunged for her.

They ran through the four-person fight, Jean going as fast as her legs could carry her while Logan looked as if he were taking a leisurely jog.

"Hey," Kitty shouted as the cease-fire broke with a snowball to the side of her head.

"Get her," Scott yelled after Logan.

Logan's tracking skills were impeccable, and he stooped to gather up snow in his hands as he listenend to Jean's heart thumping away like a frightened rabbit. Chuckling under his breath, he snuck up behind her, only to have her waiting with snowball in hand as well.

"Gotcha, Red."

"I got you, Logan."

"Got ourselves a difficult situation, eh," he smirked.

"Looks like," she panted.

"Let's call a-" he chucked the snowball at her as she tried hitting him first.

Darting around in the small clearing, their shouts seemed muted in the quiet as they flung loose snow at each other. Logan grabbed her around the waist, and Jean reached back to put snow down the neck of his jacket. With a roar that confirmed she hit her mark, Jean laughed.

"Okay, okay! Wait wait wait, I'll get it out for you," she turned toward him and reached her cold hands into his jacket, scooping the melting snow out.

"It's cold," he growled.

"That's snow, silly man!"

"You call me silly and see if you get away with it," he gripped her tighter and looked around for a snow drift to dump her in.

Jean threw her arms around his neck, clinging like a cat being dangled over water. "No! I took it out for you! I should get a reprieve!"

"You think so?"

Jean put on a very charming smile. "I have a better idea, Logan. Let's go back inside and get a drink, its starting to get dark."

He lifted his blue-black eyes to the sky, and grunted in agreement. They started the walk back to the Mansion, not realizing how far they had gone, and while the temperature continued to drop, Logan put his arm around Jean's shoulders to keep her warm.

"Look at that, it's beautiful," she halted their approach with a hand on his chest to look at the Mansion lit up with decorations, warm and inviting.

He looked to the Mansion, and then to her face. "Sure is."

"What happened here," Storm asked as Logan and Jean were taking off boots and jackets in the foyer.

"Logan tried to kill Jean," Bobby replied with a smirk, getting his drink stolen by Kitty. "Hey, you're not old enough!"

Jean smiled at Storm through messy hair. "Snowball fight turred into full-scale warfare."

"What she said," Logan chuckled.

"Jean could I have a word," Storm looked to Logan, who recognized an 'according to Xavier, Jean will not be left alone with Logan...' face if he ever saw one.

She tilted her head. "No, there's no need. Come on, Logan. Promised you a drink," she walked into the kitchen in her socks with Logan following.

As usual, Bobby was up at exactly the crack of dawn, Santa hat atop his head, waking the masses of Xavier's Mansion. Scott opened his door, surprised to find Logan pulling on a t-shirt.

"Nice 'do," Logan smirked at Scott's bedhead, throwing a heavy arm around Scott's neck, dragging him downstairs in a brotherly manner.

"How do you make your hair stay like that?"

"Just lucky," Logan chuckled.

Jean was already downstairs in a green robe, her hair tousled from sleep and yawning as she held a mug of coffee in her hand.

"Okay! Everyone knows I am the emcee of this here present-giving-"

"Just do it already," a few voices that knew this speech would go forever groaned.

Bobby sighed heavily, and started handing out the piles of presents. Logan sat back on the couch, lifting his eyebrow in confusion as Bobby held out a stack of brightly wrapped gifts to him. He took them, and watched as everyone else tore into their gifts, slowly slicing the tape oen with one of his claws.

After the fifth box of flannel shirts, he growled. "Okay, whose wise idea was it-" while everyone laughed, not having planned this at all.

"Open mine, Wolvie!"

Logan tore the green paper off the present from Jubliee, and looked into the box. With a gravelly laugh, he gave Jubilee a one-armed hug that resembled more of a headlock and slipped the keychain on his keyring.

"Thanks Sparky, made my year with this."

Storm read the saying over his shoulder, mouthing it silently, and rolled her eyes in exasperation. 'If you can't beat 'em, arrange to have 'em beaten.'

Bobby handed out stockings, and Logan shook his out on his lap. He picked up a heavy silver lighter with his initial on it, and turned it over. 'Jean.' Logan elbowed Jubliee to show him how her music player worked as Jean picked a small present from her stocking. With no name on it but hers, she glanced around the room, tearing the paper open. A small copper hand in red stained glass, decorated with crystal, lay inside the box. It was unique, and it took Jean's breath away. She looked right into Logan's eyes, he had been watching her reaction.

Jean found him outside later on, leaning against the wall enjoying a smoke.

"Do you like the lighter?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Logan, tell me what this is," she stood just behind him, holding out the delicate amulet.

He gripped the cigar between his teeth, taking it from her.

"It's a Hamsa, Moroccan. Semi-precious stones, stained glass, handmade. It's to protect against the Evil Eye, good luck to the inhabitants where it hangs, propserity, and protection."

Jean watched him place it gently back into her hand, and stood there with him in the cold.

"You might want to go in-" he turned his head as Jean leaned in, kissing him quickly.

"Thank you."


	9. Chapter 9

"What is with you people and holidays," Logan muttered as Jean was talking Valentine's Day with Jubliee and Kitty.

"We can't help it if we were raised this way," Kitty smiled.

"Just because we're Mutants out to protect humanity doesn't mean we can't have some fun," Jubliee added in.

"It's as natural as super-healing Mutants with bad attitudes," Jean teased.

"Girls and their convoluted sense of romance," he smirked.

"This is for everyone, no romance involved."

"There's only Bobby and Scott and...yeesh, that doesn't leave much else in the way of men," Jubliee made a face.

"You're not old enough for 'men'," Logan gave her a look.

"Says you," she grinned.

Logan wished he could have a little break in healing to have a proper heart attack. Jubliee was a baby! Well, seventeen...but still. The girl did not need to get mixed up in guys, Logan knew how guys worked, he being the worst of them all when it came to women.

"There's always Elixir," Jean grinned.

"Josh, oh no! Him and Kitty are dating, oops! Sorry Kit," Jubliee smacked a gloved hand over her mouth.

"Katherine Pryde! You and Josh?"

"It's not like that, I-" she blushed furiously. "What about you and Angel at the Christmas party!"

"Yeah, what about you and the overgrown cherub at the Christmas party," Logan smirked.

"We were standing under mistletoe, it's tradition," Jean replied with a dismissive sniff.

"But you like him, right?"

"We saw some of each other back when he joined up with us, but that's water under the bridge. A friendly kiss, that's all it was," Jean shook her head.

"Good, didn't like the guy," Logan growled, leaving the room.

"You looked like you were going to keel over when Jubliee mentioned boys," Jean smiled as she walked out to the dark atrium.

"She said men, Red. Boys are bad anough, but men are trouble," he growled.

"She was only trying to sound grown up," she elbowed him in the ribs.

"Jubliee doesn't need to grow up so fast."

"She likes you."

"Yeah, well she doesn't know what's good for her," he smiled.

"You adore her. Is it so hard for you to say it?"

"I can't get attached," he muttered, glancing sideways at Jean.

"You already are. That girl is going to look up to you for the rest of her life, and she isn't the only one."

"Oh yeah," he turned to her with an interested smirk.

"There's Kitty. I've heard you call her Punkin."

"They should be following Scotty or Charlie around, not me," he shook his head.

"We all need guiding figures, Logan. They found what they need in you."

"Like you and Charles."

"Yes, but that was also because he had similar powers to mine, he understood all of my questions," she shrugged.

"I think he depends on you more."

"Why," she smiled.

"Because he wants you to succeed him when he's not able to do this anymore," he replied.

"That's a big undertaking, I don't know if I could do it."

"You could, and you would do it without question."

"Storm would take over before I would even be considered," Jean shook her head.

"That's your choice, but don't pass on it until it comes."

"How are you so sure," she tilted her head with a smile.

"I can sense it," he smirked.

"Okay Logan, if you say so," she smiled, patting his shoulder as she left the atrium.


	10. Chapter 10

The rest of winter passed with plenty of blankets and hot drinks, talking vainly of warmer weather. Logan walked downstairs in the middle of the night to raid the kitchen, pausing at the scent of Jean coming from the living room. She was curled up on the couch, asleep with a blanket covering her lap, and books everywhere. He picked up a book and started to skim the pages, sitting next to her feet. He knew her final exams were coming up, whch led to too many late nights in a row.

"What time is it?"

"Little after midnight."

Jean leaned forward, looking at the book he was reading. "You interested in chemistry?"

"When ya get the right people together," he joked.

"That was a stretch," she chuckled, nudging his side with her toes.

"Still made you smile."

"Yeah well..." she looked away. "There's something I have to tell you."

"What is it, Red."

"I'm leaving the X-Men."

"Why would you want to do that," his eyebrows drew together in confusion.

"I've lived most of my life under this roof, being part of the team. I'd like to know what it's like to just be Jean."

"But this is who you are," he insisted.

"Only a part, you know that better than anyone."

"If that's what you want, Red, I'm not gonna be the one to take it from you," he muttered, feeling an ache in his stomach.

"I'll have the summer here, and it's not like I'll be gone forever."

"You won't be able to stay away."

"I know," she smiled.

"Go back to sleep," he smirked at turned back to the book.

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She looked for him during graduation, sitting tall in her seat. Bobby and the rest of the X-Men waved, but Logan wasn't with them. Sitting back in her chair, she let out a disappointed sigh.

"You almost don't want it to end, huh," a girl next to her smiled.

"No, I really don't."

Sitting through the speeches, she could feel everyone's impatience to get it over with. There were parties to go to, presents to open, boxes to pack.

"Jean Grey."

Walking to the podium for her diploma, she saw him standing under the shade of a large tree. A large grin graced her features, caught by the professional photographer.

After the ceremony ended, Jean was beset by friends and family. Taking pictures, flowers thrust into her arms, kisses and hugs rained upon her, she blushed and laughed and enjoyed the moment of accomplishment.

"Hold on one minute, okay," she called to her mother, and ran over to where Logan still stood. "You came," Jean beamed.

"Said I would," he smirked, trying not to look too happy as she flung her arms around his neck. Wanting to tell her he was proud, that he cared for her, all of it stuck in his throat as Charles wheeled up with the rest of the X-men in tow.

"I have something for you, Jean," he held out an envelope with her name on it.

Jean slid a nail under the seal, looking over the pamphlets as her eyes grew wide.

"Charles...a trip like this? Europe?"

"You have graduate school in the Fall, you deserve this break."

"Oh, thank you," she leaned down, hugging Charles.

The X-Men headed back to the Mansion to get the party ready while Jean spent some time with her parents and sister, but Logan went for a long drive instead. Arriving long after the party was in full swing, he avoided the front door, and sat out in the atrium with a case of beer.

"There you are," Jean sighed with relief, holding a whole pie in one hand, a bottle of champagne in the other.

"Is that apple pie," he asked as she sat next to him.

"I guarded it with my life, unspoiled just for us," she sat the pie in between them on the couch.

"They're gonna miss you inside."

"You don't see them coming to take me away, do you," Jean held out a fork to him, and he took it with a shake of his head.

"You're too much, Red."

"That's why you like me," she grinned.

"I'll give you that," he agreed, taking the first bite. "This is good."

"I made it."

"You did it just so I'd show up," he cocked his eyebrow at her.

"Anything to get what I want," she smiled, taking a swig of the champagne.

"Hand that over," he gestured to the bottle, and gulped a quarter of it down.

"I only have three days before I leave," she sighed, taking a bite of pie.

"Europe," he shook his head. "You've got it all there just waiting for you, all you have to do is grab."

She grabbed his hand, looking into his eyes as she fought tears from falling.

"I'm not going anywhere," he smiled at her, the first smile that lacked bravado or sarcasm.

"You aren't?"

"No, and I'll tell you if I do," he lifted his free hand, dragging his fingers through her hair.

"Promise me," she closed her eyes.

"Promises don't mean much, Red. You just have to trust me."

"I do," her bottom lip quivered

Logan leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers for a brief moment.

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He found it was possible to be comfortable in the Mansion without Jean there, his friendship with Scott and Jubliee kept him mostly at ease, though some of his darker moods lasted longer as Jean was seen at the Mansion less and less over the next three years, and there was another reason for that. She had become involved with another intern, and moved in with him. That might have seemed very impetuous for Jean Grey, but being thrust into the average human world after her sheltered life at Xavier's, it was inevitable that she find romantic entanglements within that new world. Logan could at least be glad that he guy was a normal human, she didn't dare bring him back to the Mansion where he'd have to see them together.

She was having coffee with Storm in the kitchen when Logan walked in, spotting the diamond ring on her left hand. Storm left the kitchen quickly, leaving them alone.

"Marrying him already?"

"I'm still deciding," she blushed, curling her hand into a fist.

"Looks like you have."

"I'm trying to get used to the idea," Jean rolled her eyes.

"Have you told him?"

"No."

"That's kind of a deal-breaker, him finding out you're a Mutant," he gave her an intimidating stare.

"He supports the cause, that's how I met him," she replied.

"That doesn't mean he'll want to marry one."

"You make me sound disgusting," she looked at him accusingly.

Logan grabbed her wrist, and looked at the ring on her hand. "If he is fine with it, I'll be the first one to buy you a gift."

"That's if I want to marry him," she reminded him with a smile.

"Is there something wrong with him," he smirked.

She averted her eyes from his with a guilty smile. "He's human."

"Got a little reverse prejudice there," Logan put her hand down, his fingers still around her wrist.

"It's not any easier for me to be with someone who isn't a Mutant. I don't know who the freak is, me or him!"

Logan laughed, the first time she had ever heard him really laugh out loud, and it made Jean grin with happiness. He looked into her eyes and felt a pull of affection pass between them, something stronger than any moment of anger he had ever felt. Unwilling to know what that meant, he took his hand away, the both of them focusing on opposite ends of the room.

"Should I marry him," she asked.

"If you're asking, Jean...that answers everything."

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Logan pulled out of the garage, only to see Jean unloading her car. It had been two months since he spoke to her last.

"Why didn't you accept?"

Jean sighed. "Because I realized I could never be part of the team, not if I had to keep it secret."

"So you didn't tell him."

"No, I didn't."

"What did you tell him then?"

"I wasn't ready to get married," she answered.

"Is that true?"

"I was playing at being someone I wasn't, hoping that it would become me. Nice while the fantasy lasted."

"But you wanted to be married."

"I wanted to belong to someone."

Logan took the box from her arms, and headed inside.

"What about the bike?"

"It'll be there later."

As Logan carried the box upstairs, a young woman in elbow-length black gloves was coming down.

"Logan, ah was just lookin' for you," she drawled.

"Is that so?"

"Yes, can I go for a ride with-"

"No, Rogue, you aren't goin' anywhere near the bike," he gruffed.

"Aw, Logan," she groaned, looking dejected as she went downstairs.

"Is that your girlfriend," Jean teased.

"I don't treat my girlfriends that nice," he smirked.

"You've had girlfriends," she gasped, hand over her heart.

"You might not call 'em that," he grinned, opening the door to her room.

"The...pay as you go sort," Jean asked.

"Jean!"

"Just curious," she laughed.

"Are you sayin' I need to pay to get a woman to sleep with me?"

"I wasn't sayin' anything," she held her hands up in a surrenduring gesture.

"Because I don't," he crossed his arm over his chest, cocking an eyebrow at her.

"I didn't mean anything by it, Logan!"

"Let's go get the rest of your stuff," he muttered, surprising her by tugging her into a brief hug. "Good to have you back, Red."

He let her go and sauntered out of her bedroom.

"It's good to be home," she smiled and jogged to catch up.

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Jean went to her room quietly, rubbing at a sore point on her neck as she climbed the stairs. She had come home knowing that it would be too early for anyone to be awake. Except Logan. He watched from the kitchen, seeing the line of exhaustion in her back, the way she held her head suggested a rough night at the hospital. He put a mug of water in the microwave and grabbed down her box of peppermint tea.

She sat on the edge of her bed in her scrubs, rubbing at the headache pounding in her temples. Deciding she should shower before falling into bed, she placed her hands on her knees and looked up.

"Logan."

He stood there silent, holding a steaming mug out to her.

"Tea," she asked.

"You don't need coffee at this hour."

She took the mug gratefully, gripping it tight as Logan sat next to her.

"Who did you lose?"

"A little girl. It was strep throat, such an easy thing to treat...but the fever was too high and an infection went to her brain," her chin quivered.

"It's okay."

"I don't think I can do this, Logan."

"You aren't going to give up being a doctor," he asked, taken aback by her readiness to quit.

"I can't be a doctor, like this. I've been thinking about it since I moved back. I want to research the Mutant gene."

"Are you sure?"

"It's hard enough seeing my family hurt, but to tell that girl's parents she was dead. I just...couldn't bear it."

Jean leaned into his chest, and Logan's arms wrapped around her like it was as natural as breathing. It hurt him to see her so distraught, and he made quiet soothing sounds into her hair as she quivered like a fragile leaf. Her tears dried, and Logan still held her close, waiting for her to fall asleep.


	11. Chapter 11

"Why don't you come out with me tonight," Logan asked as he shrugged on his jacket.

"You don't want me tagging along," she searched the bookshelves for something to read.

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't want you to come."

"You just feel bad that I'm alone on a Friday night," Jean smiled, red hair pulled back into a ponytail.

"Wouldn't kill ya to go out once, Red."

"Maybe another time, Logan."

Logan entered the Auger Inn after having dinner at his usual hole-in-the-wall diner, nodding to fellow patrons. He caught a scent of Jean's perfume on the air, and was irritated to see her sitting in a booth with Warren and Remy.

"Logan," Jean smiled.

"I thought you were going to spend a quiet night reading."

"Remy wouldn't take no for an answer," she grinned, elbowing Remy.

"Wouldn't be right to deprive everyone of a beautiful woman like you," Remy replied, hanging an arm over her shoulders.

"Is one too much for a lightweight like you," Jean stole Remy's beer.

"Not for me. C'mon Logan, join us," Warren gave that cocky grin that made Logan want to put a knuckle sandwich right into it.

"Sure," Logan eyed Jean closely, taking the seat across from her.

"I can handle my drink," Remy insisted.

"We'll see," Jean left her company to get drinks from the bar, her white tank top and tight jeans inviting more then a few appreciative glances.

"Harp," Warren asked as Jean sat the bottle over Logan's shoulder.

"Only good beer there is," Logan muttered.

"Since I went to Ireland, it's been Guiness for me," Jean lifted her tall glass for a sip of the heavy brew.

"I see you like the dark type," Remy flirted, getting a laugh from Jean.

"The dark and strong type," she leaned toward Remy, though her eyes darted straight to Logan.

"I may not be all that much in muscle, but I'm plenty strong in wits," Remy continued.

"Gumbo here-" Logan started.

"You look like a dancer, cher. Care to take a spin?"

"You bet," Jean smiled, taking his offered hand.

The speakers stared blaring a Bruce Springsteen song, something midtempo and wild, describing a night out with fast cars and a beautiful woman. The kind of music that got Logan in the mood for barfight, his jaw twitching as Remy spun Jean out and back into his chest. Jean knew the words right down to every 'c'mon baby', her mass of thick wavy hair like fire dancing around her face. Logan's hackles went up as he watched Remy's hands, and how much Jean was enjoying herself, twisting and bouncing along to the music.

"Jean sure is something when she loosens up," Warren smirked.

"Shut yer trap, you overgrown pigeon," Logan muttered.

Logan took a sniff, Remy devoid of any arousal. How could people dance like that and not be attracted to one another, he sure as Hell couldn't...but then again Logan didn't dance. With the song finally over, Remy and Jean came back to the table laughing, his arm around her neck again.

"Another round," she asked, flushed from dancing.

Logan watched Jean chat with the bartender, swaggering over to the bar with a beer in hand.

"Come here often, Red."

Jean looked over her shoulder at him with a smile. "Once or twice. Are you surprised?"

"Amused," he snorted.

"What's your problem," Jean frowned.

"You won't lower your standards to be seen outside the Mansion with me, but you'll come out with your boyfriend _and_ Gumbo?"

"Yes, because it's always about you, Logan," she pushed off the bar and walked back to the booth.

He lurked in the shadows the rest of the night, playing some pool and talking some bullshit with a few guys he'd seen around before. Sick of seeing Jean with Warren yet again, Logan walked onto the dance floor and timed it just right that he stepped right in, taking posession of Jean before Warren could blink.

"Cuttin' in," he muttered.

"You don't dance," she stared at Logan as if she had never seen him before.

"I don't?"

"You always told Kitty no!"

"She wanted to step on my feet," he smirked, one arm around her and the other still holding his beer.

"You just don't want me to dance with Warren," she smiled.

"They've been spinning you around all night, more to dancin' than that."

"So you dance a lot," she asked, still staring at Logan.

"Nope."

"Then how do you know," her shock seemed to abate as her hands curled around his neck.

"I watch," he grinned, taking a swig of his drink.

"Oh, she blushed and fell silent, unable to meet his gaze as they swayed along to the slow tempo.

Logan felt Jean's heart thumping hard in her chest, lowering his head next to hers as he smirked at Warren and Remy. The song faded into the atmosphere of the bar, and stepped back with a pleased smile.

"You wanna dance," a man about Jean's age offered.

Logan growled at him, and then handed the guy his empty beer bottle.

"Knock that off, I can speak for myself," Jean admonished him, though she was smiling.

"I like this song," he shrugged, pulling her close as a blues track started to play.

"I never figured you for a Jonny Lang fan," she smiled.

"The kid is good," he returned the smile, falling into a more complicated step he had seen a million times before.

Jean looked up, catching him mouthing the words, and laughed. Logan smirked at being caught, and spun her out, pulling her back in so that her back was pressed to his chest. She slithered down and back up so fast Logan wasn't sure it happened, and spun her back around to face him. The shine in her eyes told him it had, and before the song ended she grabbed his hand and pulled him off to the pool tables. Their teammates joined them at the table and made small talk as the night wound down.

"Got room for one more," Jean hung behind as Remy and Warren walked to the car.

"Sure," Logan swung a leg over the motorcycle.

"Jean, c'mon!"

"Go on ahead, I've got a ride," she shouted and jumped on behind Logan, who immediately peeled out onto the highway in a cloud of dust.

"Have a good time tonight," Kitty asked with a grin, leaning up against the wall as Jean laughed coming through the door with her hair wild from the windy ride.

"Wasn't bad," Jean shrugged with a wide grin.

"Get any numbers," Jubliee asked.

"No, I was pretty much kept busy with Remy and Warren and this one," she motioned to Logan, who had his head in the fridge looking for beer.

"Do you have a girlfriend, Logan," Jubliee quirked an eyebrow.

"None of your business, kid," he smirked, downing half the bottle.

"What's her name? Is she pretty?"

Jean made an exasperated sound, getting a slow grin from Logan.

"Gorgeous," he replied.

"What's her name, Tanya...Bettie...Sheila," Jean actually sneered.

"None of your business either, Red," he left the room with a swagger.


	12. Chapter 12

Logan heard Jean's footsteps on the stairs, surprised that she stopped at his door. He'd usually follow the sound of her long light stride on the wood floors of the hallway until they disappeared into Scott's room. Unless there was need for him to know about something, he kept himself clear of X-Men business, the rest of the team were better at diplomacy anyway.

"Are you busy," Jean asked.

"I haven't seen you here since you first read my mind," he smirked.

"I need a favor."

"I'm not watchin' any of those kids for ya," Logan muttered.

"Nevermind..."

"What do ya need, Red?"

"Want to go on a mission with me?"

"You need cover," his eyebrow lifted.

"No."

"But you're askin' me anyway?"

"Look, if you don't want to go because you won't be able to skewer anyone-" she sighed.

"I'll go."

"You will?"

"Sure," he joined her in the hall, pulling his door shut.

"Your room looks like its never been touched," she commented as they descended the stairs.

"It's lived in."

"You don't even have keys, or change on the night table."

"I leave things neat, is that a problem?"

"No," she smiled.

They took the elevator to the lower levels, and straight to the jet hangar. Jean and Logan took a seat in the cockpit, while Jean flicked buttons with quick and efficent movements.

"You don't get to fly often, do you," she asked, adjusting the microphone beside her mouth.

"Nope. What's the mission?"

"Retrieving a new Mutant," she took the controls and pulled back.

"You have intel?"

"Kurt Wagner. Teleportation. He's been eluding us for some time now."

"A runner. Bad news, maybe?"

"Won't know until we meet him," she answered.

Ah hour later, she landed the plane on the roof in Boston, touching down light as a bird landing on a branch.

"He's somewhere around this church, we should split up to look for him," she opened the roof door quietly.

"Sure thing, Red."

Logan scoured the cemetery for the Mutant, sniffing for traces of fresh scent to follow. The smell of brimstone tickled his brain and moved forward toward a mausoleum.

"Get that woman out of the church and go!"

Logan waited for an attack, and instead smelled pungent brimstone.

"You vill not take me back there," a thick German-accented voice cut through the still air.

Logan turned in a circle, not liking his back unprotected. "Hey, we just wanna talk."

"That's what those others said to me," a strange noise punctuated the air, making his voice come from a new direction.

"Whoever they were, that ain't us," Logan muttered.

"Logan, who are you talking to," Jean jogged around the mausoleum.

"Jean, I found your 'porter."

"Kurt Wagner? I'm Jean Grey, and this is Logan. We're part of a Mutant faction called the X-Men-"

"How do you know about me?"

"We've been wanting to talk with you for some time, ever since you escaped Alkali Lake."

"I don't know anything," he insisted, the noise popping around them like Jubliee's fireworks.

Jean reached out with her mind and snagged him like an animal in a net. Logan was not expecting the Mutant to be deep blue, with fangs of all things.

"If you come with us, you won't ever have to run again."

"How can I trust you," Kurt asked.

"By giving it a try," Jean smiled holding out her hand as she released him.

He hesitated for a moment before taking her hand, Logan noted further that he had only two fingers and a thumb on each hand...and a forked tail.

"Hallo."

"Hey bub," Logan muttered.

"Let's go to the jet, we can get acquianted on the way back to the Mansion," Jean tugged on Kurt's hand.

"Or we could-" Kurt smiled, and Logan was suddenly alone in a cloud of reddish-purple smoke.

"Jean?"

"I'm up here," she called, waving from the roof of the building.

"Showoff," Logan muttered, left to take the long way up.

Once they were well on their way back, Jean hit the autopilot and unbuckled the restraints. She turned with a smile on her face that immediately faded at Logan's predatory expression, glaring across the aisle at Kurt. Jean cleared her throat, his eyebrow quirked as if to say 'what?'. She tilted her head and raised her eyebrows as if to reply 'you're being rude!'.

"You live with Mutants, ja?"

"Yup."

"Then why are you looking at me like I'm strange?"

"Never seen a Mutant like you before."

"Ach, danke," Kurt smiled.

Once the jet was safely back in the hangar, the three Mutants took the elevator to ground level.

"Thanks for your help, Logan. Xavier wants to meet with Kurt now, so you're free."

"I'll take him," Logan stalked off with Kurt easily matching his pace, chatting all the way down the hall.

Jean sighed, rolling her eyes as she walked away.

"We have your room all ready, Kurt. I-well this is a pleasant surprise," she smiled as she saw Kurt and Logan in the atrium with a case of beer.

"Elf here has got some good stories."

"I just wanted beer," Kurt joked.

"The room by Bobby's is for Kurt, think you can remember that when he's had too much and wants to crash?"

"Why don't you join us and remind me later," Logan smirked.

"No thanks, you two bond over booze. Goodnight," she smiled.

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Sabretooh backhanded Jean, knocking the wind out of her lungs. Logan roared, unleashing his claws as he charged his oldest enemy.

Jean felt sticky blood on the back of her head, struggling not to pass out. Thankfully she lay on the ground forgotten at the moment, so she had time to get her bearings. But as she stood on shaky knees, she did not like the scene swimming into her doubled vision.

Sabretooth had Logan down on his knees, preparing for a killing blow.

"LOGAN!"

He fell onto his side, vision fading out as he saw Jean trying to take Sabretooth apart...

Logan drifted in and out as the jet streaked for the mansion, he wanted to tell Jean not to bother with the medical supplies. They'd just be a waste. Either he'd get better on his own, or die. At the moment, he didn't really care either way. But there was something about the look in her eyes, the tone of her voice that suggested she cared for him, and he pondered that thought as he lost consciousness again.

Cool hands touched Logan's chest, followed by the slight discomfort of bandages taking hair away as they were removed. When Jean's scent reached his nose, his eyes cracked open to look up at her. At twenty five, she was still young, but maturity had sculpted her face and filled out her body.

"Tickles," he breathed, grabbing her hand from his stomach.

"You really like to scare us, don't you?"

"It's not a mission if I don't have all eyes on me," he joked dryly.

"That's for sure," she rolled her eyes.

He turned his head, looking for a clock."How long have I been out?"

"Ten hours," she smiled, the signs that she hadn't slept telling on her face. Along with a nasty bruise on her cheekbone.

"Waited up? I think you like me after all," he smirked.

"It was only fair, you-"

"Don't mention it," Logan felt the blood rush to his face.

"Thought you'd like to hear some words of appreciation from me for once."

"Rather hear that you were telling all the other women about it, makes me look better," he gave a cocky reply.

Jean pulled away as Logan was trying to subtly get a feel of her hand in his, her last conversation with Charles must have been serious enough that any contact with him non-medical was strictly looked down upon. It was a shame, she was soft and smelled so good...what was he thinking, she was only twenty-five! It was all Charles' fault, he seemed to think Logan had some kind of attraction to her, and the repeated warnings just put the idea there as if he were thinking them all along.

"Sit up," she ordered calmly, putting the cold stethoscope to his chest and back without warming it. But she was standing close and touching him again, so he swallowed the urge to act up.

"Am I dying," he smirked.

Rolling her eyes, she removed the electrodes and wires. "You're free to go, Logan."

He stepped down from the table, catching the sheet before it left him completely naked.

"Should I just wear this out, or what."

Jean looked over from the notes she was taking. "No, just wait a minute."

"Don't really have a choice, unless the toga look is back in."

He watched Jean cross the room and go through a cupboard before returning with a pair of school sweatpants and a t-shirt, and noticed her looking at him longer than a doctor should, like a woman would.

"Where's my suit?"

"It was needed," she looked pointedly at Logan.

"For what."

"Modifications. Don't want Sabretooth going for the same places next time."

"Why not just put me in a suit of armor," he snorted, pulling the shirt over his head.

"Now that would just be ridiculous," she smiled humorlessly.

Logan tried to think of something to say, but thought it better to stay silent.

"Take it easy, would you?"

"I can try," he nodded.

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"What's with you and Jean?"

"Nothing," Logan shook his head.

"You want her."

"Too young for me."

"Just because you're older than dirt doesn't mean you have to act like it," Scott smiled, fully amused with himself.

"Scooter, don't go makin' trouble."

"She's been proposed to, but she refused and moved back into the mansion, you wonder why that is?"

"She doesn't fall over herself when some guy flashes somethin' shiny at her," he gruffed to the younger Mutant.

"Jean isn't going to wait forever, Logan."

"You've had too many. Summers, I'm cuttin' you off," Logan plucked the beer out of Scott's hand.

"Give that back, or I'll blast your hand so crispy you'll have to go and see Jean in the infirmary."

Logan let out a rough chuckle, handing the bottle back. "Tryin' to help me out?"

"If you think it might work, sure."

"Just because I heal fast doesn't mean I particularly enjoy the pain given to me, understand?"

"Wouldn't a little sympthay from Jean be worth it?"

"You really want to hurt me."

"For every damn time you've called me Scooter," Scott laughed.

Logan and Scott stayed at the bar until closing, then piled back into Logan's truck, heading back to the mansion.

"You gonna make it," Logan asked as Scott wandered up to the door.

"How are you not as drunk as me?"

"Lots of practice," Logan grinned, giving Scott a rougher slap to the back than he meant to.

Scott pushed himself up from the floor with a groan, Logan grabbed the back of Scott's jacket to help him up.

"What's goin' on here," Jean stood on the stairs with the hall light shadowing her face.

"Went to the bar," Logan smiled.

"Scott, are you drunk," Jean asked as he climbed the stairs next to her.

"Think so," he grinned.

She watched Scott stagger up the stairs, and jumped when she felt Logan come to stand next to her.

"Yes?"

"You're not the only one who needs to have some fun," he smirked.

"Scott doesn't drink."

"You don't know him that well, Red."

"And you do," she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Just because you're a 'path doesn't mean you know everyone inside out."

"Go to bed, Logan," she sighed, climbing the stairs.


	13. Chapter 13

Logan left Charles' office with his head full of questions, distracted enough that he hadn't noticed Jean until he had passed her by.

"Goin' somewhere?"

"Charlie has information."

"I hope you find what you're looking for," she spoke automatically, like all the times before when he got information that went nowhere.

"You want to come help me look?"

"I've got classes to teach, Logan."

"But you thought about it."

She shrugged, a guilty smile giving her away.

"No one's gonna think less of you for wanting to leave," Logan reminded her.

"I do."

"Shouldn't do that," he shook his head.

"Why not?"

"You'll never know what it's like, being free of responsibility."

"Someone has to be responsible," she looked away from his intent gaze with a smile.

"Charles wants you to be happy, all you'd have to do is ask."

"It seems too easy."

"Everything seems too easy when you're a Mutant. Think about it, Jean."

"I will," she smiled politely.

"So I'll see you when I get back."

"I haven't made my decision yet," she replied as he walked away.

"No? Looks like you have," Scott smirked.

"Why must you do that," she jumped.

"I was trying to get where I'm going without disturbing the moment."

"There was no 'moment', and if you had somewhere to go, you would _be_ there," she snapped.

"Jean, a blind man would see that you-"

"Oh, save it and go moon over Storm already."

"That worked in college, only then," Scott crossed his arms.

"It's Logan. Scott, he's not the type to-"

"He seems to be pretty settled."

"The two of you are buddies, you'll say anything to make him look good."

"The point is, does he look good to you?"

"Scott Summers...you are worse than a yenta," she shook her head, walking away.

"I'm not a Jewish granny!"

"You're trying to play matchmaker with two people who are not suited for one another," she turned with a frown on her lips.

"Not suited? Looks like you're both in the same stubborn boat to me," Scott shrugged.

"Scott, stay out of my love life."

"I'm just voicing your innermost thoughts, no meddling required."

"Oh, so you're the 'path now," she raised an angry eyebrow.

"I've known you since you were sixteen years old, Jean," Scott reminded, leaving her alone in the hallway.

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Jean was waiting next to his bike when he stomped into the garage, blinking at her like he wasn't sure if he was still asleep.

"You could use some coffee."

"I doubt you'd let me fall asleep," he smirked.

"Can we go already?"

"In a hurry?"

"I want to get gone before I change my mind and stay home to be a good girl," she smiled.

"No problem," he settled on the seat, waiting for her to climb on behind him.

Jean fastened the chin strap of the helmet, adjusting it to a comfortable position on her head.

"Hold on," he spoke above the sudden deep rumble of the motorcycle.

"Like I have a deathwish," she snorted, wrapping her arms around his waist.

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They crossed the border as the sun was setting, getting a room at an old truck stop Logan knew of.

"What's the plan," she asked, looking over his shoulder at the map spread out over his bed.

"I haven't searched this part of the compound yet," he pointed to a place on the map that was nothing but wilderness. Of course, what was underneath was what he meant.

"Do you think anyone's moved in," she lay her forearm across his shoulders, leaning against him.

"Don't know, guess we'll find out," he smirked.

"When do we get started?"

"Tomorrow night. Jean?"

"Yes Logan," she asked, pulling the sheets back on the bed.

"That comment about you bein' the good girl...I know you're not."

"Excuse me?"

"I know about those pictures you took."

"Pictures," she gulped.

"Your summer abroad wasn't all Irish castles and fog...took a little detour to Paris..."

"How did you-"

"I read.," he smirked.

"Fashion magazines?"

"Not in the magazines I read."

"Those were not porn," she shouted, her face growing hot.

"Men's mags, Red."

She was silent, searching through her bag for nothing.

"You looked damn good," he added.

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"It's abandonded."

"But someone's still watching."

"The cameras are new," she looked closer.

"All the better to catch us with," he muttered.

"I can disable them."

"Then they'll come running. Can ya...make 'em look the other way?"

"I don't see why not," Jean lifted her hand and turned the camera lens to the ground.

"Let's check in here."

Jean followed Logan into a computer lab, where he stepped aside to let her work.

"There's so much here," she murmured.

"Try and get as much as you can."

She slipped a disc into the drive, windows popping up one after another. Logan tried to stay quiet, though curiosity was gnawing at his guts to know if there was anything about him in the files.

"They've got me, Logan."

"Let's move."

"Hold on, let me just," Jean typed furiously fast on the keyboard.

"Jean."

"Got it," she took the disc, sticking it inside her suit.

They ran from the underground base, the sirens of the opening damn nearly bursting their eardrums.

"Logan," she yelled.

He barely heard her, and turned to see her standing still.

"Come on!"

"Go on ahead!"

"I'm not leaving you!"

"Go," she turned away, lifting her arms up and out to the sides.

He rushed toward her, only to fall back against a shield she had put up.

"Jean!"

"Do what I tell you! Oh God..."

The water came toward them in a deafening roar, almost silent against the steel gray sky. Logan stood in terror of the water as it snapped trees hundreds of years old like toothpicks. The effort Jean was putting out showed on her face, tight lines of concentration creasing her features as she tried to piece together a shield large enough to save them. Suddenly her shoulders relaxed, standing there as if she were walking on the beach. With a deep inhaled breath, a lazy curl of red and gold snuffed out the green in her irises, and the water slowed and grew weaker. Once it hit them, Logan grabbed onto the neck of Jean's suit and held on as it carried them away.

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Logan woke up on his back, looking up at a heavy gray sky. He was next to Jean, who lay on her side shivering in the cold air.

"Red, you okay?"

She gave a halfhearted groan, curling up into a ball.

"What did I do? Was that me?"

He groaned as he felt his body tending to the injuries, pulling her to her feet. "Xavier should have told you."

"Told me what," she asked as Logan pulled the wet hair from her cheek.

"Jean, he had his reasons-" he found it hard to tell her something so devastating when he had her so close, his hands moving around her slim waist.

"You're scaring me, Logan."

"You have more power in your head than ten of Cerebro," he spoke low, as if it wouldn't sound so bad in his usual gruff tone.

"That isn't funny," she looked at him in horror.

"Not meant to be, darlin'."

"What am I?"

"You're Jean Grey, like you always have been," he ran a large hand down her thick red hair.

She nodded, the two lines appearing between her brows was a characteristic of her deep in thought. "Take me back, Logan."

"Sure thing."

Back at the hotel, Logan watched as she disappeared into the bathroom for a long shower. He peeled of his wet suit, wondering what she could be thinking of herself as he dressed in his usual clothes. The water shut off, and she remained in the bathroom until she was dry and dressed. In tight-fitting cotton pants and long-sleeved shirt, she still shivered.

"Hungry?"

"No," she folded her arms close to her chest, shoulders shaking.

"Here," he pulled off his flannel shirt, and fed her arms through the sleeves.

"You don't have to take care of me."

"I do what I like," he smirked.

"What other things would you like to do with me," she asked with a sly smirk.

"Plenty," he chuckled.

"Would you like to sleep next to me, Logan?"

He nodded, kicking off his boots as she pulled back the blankets. Crawling onto the bed after her, he pulled the blankets up and drew Jean back to his chest. She sighed with contentment, caressing his knuckles with gentle fingers.

"Night Jean," he buried his face in her sweet-smelling hair and closed his eyes.

"Sleep well."

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"Jean?"

Logan sat up, his dogtags clanking on the chain around his neck. She wasn't in the room. He ran outside, the bike still in the parking spot. Leaving his stuff behind, he fished the keys from his pocket and started the engine, driving until he was nearly out of gas to look for her. Back at the motel, he let out a string of curses, nearly ripping the motel phone from the wall in his haste to get the receiver to his ear.

"Xavier's Schoo-"

"Scott, she's gone."

"What? Where could she have gone?"

"Just get here, we don't have time for this!"

The Blackbird touched down in a thick grouping of trees behind the roadside motel an hour later, Logan approached the jet as the stairs descended.

"Is Charles in there," he asked Scott.

"Yes, but Logan-" Scott followed Logan back up the stairs.

"You should have told her, she's run off because you didn't tell her how much power she had!"

"It was her choice to run," Charles answered calmly.

"I thought you loved her."

"I do. Logan, she has to figure out what to do with that power-"

"It will kill her," Logan shouted.

"Logan, what's this about," Storm asked, seeing concern on Scott's drawn down mouth.

"Jean had so much power in her that Charles put blocks in her head and never told her," he snapped at Storm in anger and imaptience.

"Why didn't you tell her," Scott asked.

"I wanted her to live her life happy."

"But now she's gone, Professor," Storm urged the fact.

"She's gone," he nodded.

"Find her," Scott demanded.

"She won't let me. When she's ready, she'll come back to us," Charles replied, if he was upset he didn't show it.

"If you won't look for her, I will," Logan growled.

"That's your right, Logan. You're a free agent of the X-Men."

Logan nodded sharply, stoming down the jet stairs.

"Logan, wait a minute."

"Kurt, I'm losing time," he growled.

"I'll go with you, help you find her."

"This for me to do, Wagner. I'll let you know how its going."


	14. Chapter 14

(Author's Note: I am officially begging for help with html codey stuff! I need to figure out how to do breaks, and I am sorry for the scenes that seem to bleed into one another! Whilst I obsess over this, I have no room in my head for writing new chapters! Help me help you!)

Logan finally found Jean, in the company of the Brotherhood. Of all the places he thought to look, this had been the last and in his mind, the least likely place for her to be. He watched them for days, thinking she had been taken against her will...until she saw her out in the open with every chance to escape, but she talked with Mystique and a woman he overheard called Betsy. Determined to have her back in any way, he approached the doors the next night.

"Wolverine, what brings you here," Mystique's yellow eyes flickered knowingly.

"I want to see Eric," he spoke around a cigar clenched between his teeth.

"Come to join up?"

"Why not, I'm not having any fun playing house," Logan sneered.

"Wait here, I'll be back."

"Not going anywhere," he smirked, hands stuffed into his pockets.

Eric emerged a few moments later, giving Logan a piercing glare with an icy smile.

"Mystique tells me you're interested in switching sides."

"So far she's telling the truth," Logan nodded.

"In my office."

Logan followed Eric, with Mystique right at his back. He tried not to laugh at the expression of shock from Mystique when Eric motioned for her to leave them alone.

"If you've come to take her back to the X-Men, you'll see that she won't go. What Charles did to her all those years ago has hurt her deeply."

"What hurts her hurts me," Logan replied.

"She's changed, Logan."

"I'll take any part of her, it doesn't matter."

"Very well. Welcome to the Brotherhood," he held out his hand.

"Excuse me for not wanting to shake your hand, metal skeleton and all."

"I'm not a refrigerator magnet, Logan."

Logan hesitated a moment longer, and took the hand offered.

"We don't have much room, you might want to make friends quickly, or sleep on the couch."

Still in his leather jacket, Logan walked around the first floor, memorizing the doors and hallways. He heard Mystique in the living room, and smelled Jean there as well. Leaning against the entranceway, he surveyed the room of Mutants. His eyes finally connected with a pair of green eyes he had stared at since he could remember, and Jean's mouth hitched up in a partial smile.

"Toad, you're gonna have to share," Mystique teased.

"No, I certainly will not!"

"He stays with me," Jean stated, getting up from her relaxed sprawl on the armchair.

"That's generous of you, Jean," Betsy purred from the couch.

"Don't be jealous, you had the opportunity to offer," Jean smiled, taking Logan's hand.

He followed up the stairs, noting the length of her hair that gave way to her swaying hips in a pair of black pants.

"So you gave up on Xavier," she looked down at him with a smirk.

"I left Xavier's to be with you."

She stopped on the stairs. "I have changed, it isn't an act."

"That doesn't matter to me, Jean."

"The power is getting stronger, Logan. I can feel it taking parts of me."

"I'm here, we can figure it out."

"Does Charles hate me," she asked softly.

"Never," he smiled.

Jean led him the rest of the way to her room, holding the door open as he surveyed what was now their room. He tossed his bag on the bed, pulling off his jacket.

"There's two drawers in the dresser, and the closet for your stuff," she closed the door as Betsy tried to breeze in.

"Hey!"

"He's trying to get settled," Jean stood in the doorway.

"Is there anything he...needs," Betsy asked with a sly smile.

"I'll get it for him, Bets."

Betsy dropped the seductive tone, leaning against the doorframe. "Toad is driving me crazy."

"You could have said that in the first place," Jean grinned, letting the woman into the room.

"I was only trying to let James Dean here think he'd entered a den of wicked women."

"Finding Jean here was enough," Logan smirked.

"Elizabeth Braddock, assassin," she held out her hand.

Logan shook the offered hand, "Logan."

"She's told me about you," she grinned.

"About my drinking, and my smoking," he looked at Jean, who only shrugged.

"That's not all," she gave Jean a loaded look, that earned her a playful smack.

"I've been tracking this girl for months, you mind if I crash," Logan sat in the chair to unlace his boots.

"I'll leave you two alone then," Betsy smiled at Jean as she left the room.

Logan stripped off his black t-shirt, amused to see Jean flustered at being caught staring at him.

"You've seen more of me before," Logan smirked.

"That was when I was a doctor," she muttered, looking for something in her dresser drawers.

He walked up behind her, looking at her face in the mirror."You weren't lookin' at me like one then, either."

Brushing his palm down her arm, he felt her shiver.

"I missed you, Logan," she leaned back into his chest.

"Missed you too, Red," Logan wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Did you want to shower?"

"It can wait, unless you think I smell. Sharin' your bed with me an' all," he grinned.

"No, you smell good like always. Go ahead and get into bed, I've got my whole routine to do," she pulled away with a smile.

Logan unbuckled his belt as Jean disappeared into the hall, and followed her to the bathroom. She was leaning against the bathroom sink brushing her teeth when he opened the door. Jean pulled the toothbrush from her mouth with an audible 'pop', and spun around to spit into the sink.

"I locked that door."

"I changed my mind about that shower," he smirked, reaching into the shower to turn on the water.

"Are you gonna tell me how you unlocked that door?"

"I'm good at what I do," he leaned in and kissed her cheek, kicking his jeans away as he stepped behind the curtain.

Jean finished washing her face and left the bathroom, unable to fall asleep as she waited for Logan to come back to the room. He slipped into the dark room, and crawled into bed next to her, jerking away as Jean jumped at the contact of their bodies.

"Why are ya so skittish," he asked with amusement in his voice.

"I haven't seen you in a long time," she winced as her voice came out shaky.

"You weren't so shy when we were at Alkali Lake," he stared down at her in the dark.

"I had already planned to leave you, I didn't know if I'd see you again."

"So you just invited me to sleep with you because you'd never have to do it again?"

"No, that wasn't it!"

"Then how was it, Jean?"

"I wanted to be close to you," she snapped, adjusting her pillow.

Logan sighed, running a hand through his wet hair.

"Didn't mean ta get ya riled up," he muttered.

Jean reached back and drew his arm around her body.

"Just go to bed," she whispered.


	15. Chapter 15

Eric knew that the two former X-Men had no intention of betraying Charles Xavier, so he graciously excluded them from anything concerning his old ally. But when it came to matters of bigger importance, they were his first choices. At first the other residents of the house were envious that the two unproven Mutants were trusted with such things as destroying labs intent on making the Mutant Cure, but after their first mission brought Jean and Logan back in barely whole pieces, they soon gave way to grudging respect.

"I brought provisions," Logan announced as he entered their room.

"How did you get this past Toad," she smiled, opening a chinese food container to smell the contents.

"I told him there was more in the car," he smirked.

"Genius."

"I thought so," Logan sat next to her on the bed with chopsticks in hand. "You feeling any better?"

"I don't come back like you do," she replied with a touch of envy, barely leaving their room in seven days.

"Is it your neck?"

"I've treated it for a week, it should feel even a little better by now."

"Will you let me see now," he asked, Jean had swatted him away each time he offered before.

"You can take a look."

Logan set his food aside and gently skimmed his fingers over Jean's neck, feeling out the pulled muscles and tendons on either side. With a satisfied grunt at being right, he started making small circles over the knots, coaxing them to relax and give her some relief. Her shoulders dropped, finally feeling less tension.

"Logan, you're the best."

He chuckled, placing a kiss on the base of her neck.

"What's that for?"

"Part of my treatment," he smirked.

"I take it not just anyone gets that kind of treatment," she looked over her shoulder at him.

Logan ran his fingers down her arm, smiling with a devious look to his eye. Time had developed their affection into an intense attraction they had long since ignored. She leaned back into his chest, her mouth just a breath away from his, and then gracefully turned herself around and sat straddled over his lap.

"What about the food," she grinned as he lay back.

"We can heat it up later," he muttered, playing with the hem of her tank top.

Jean responded with slipping her hand under his t-shirt. "But your stomach just growled."

The scrape of her nails on his stomach made Logan grit his teeth, helping her remove his t-shirt. "It can wait."

Tossing the shirt aside, Jean placed her elbows on either side of his head, grinning as his hands gripped her hips. Dropping her mouth onto his, she groaned softly as Logan lifted his head. His kisses became harder, brushing his tongue against hers as she pulled back.

"Jean," he growled, his eyes dark and hot.

She pulled the black tank top over her head and moved to his stomach, swiping her tongue along the ridges of his abdomen. Logan grunted, and tried to sit up.

"Don't rush," she chided, biting his hipbone.

"I can't help it when you're doin' that," he growled.

"Clearly you've always gotten your way, it's about time to change that I think," she smiled.

"You don't know who you're messin' with, Red."

"Don't I," she looked up at him with mischevious eyes, and bit softly at his stomach.

He tried to move, and growled. She was holding him down with her telekinesis.

"Guess I do know who I'm messin' with," she grinned.

"Let me up."

"I will, in just a minute..." she flicked open his belt buckle with one hand, pulling the belt far too slowly for Logan's patience.

"Come on, Jean."

She smiled at the slight despiration in his voice, and freed him from her control. He sat up slowly, pressing his fingers into her skin as he pulled her close.

"I know your neck still hurts, so I'm gonna take it easy this time," he slid his fingers up her spine, popping the clasps on her bra.

"But I'll pay for that later," she asked, shivering as his breath warmed her throat.

"With interest," his fingers massaged her hips, effectively pulling her clothes away.

"Fair enough," she chuckled as he turned her over, careful of her neck.

He kicked his jeans away and groaned at the contact of warm naked skin, pressing a warm kiss to her lips before turning back to her throat. Going slow had certain benefits for Logan, it reminded him to be patient and not to get lost in the pleasure swimming around in his head. He couldn't help but smile at the soft gasps from Jean's mouth as his own trailed over her, and a harsh intake of breath when he gave her a soft bite. The others he had been with had been after the moment of release just like him, but Jean was enjoying his kisses too much for him to move on just yet. This was a different kind of woman, and one he wanted to take plenty of time with.

Jean wiggled under him as he dragged his teeth along her collarbones. "Logan...oh, wow..." she sighed.

He moved back, kissing the arm she draped over his shoulder, and she opened her eyes to stare at him. A long leg rubbed at his hip, and he reached back to take the back of her thigh in his hand and squeeze the flesh, pulling it snug around his lower back.

"I can't believe this," she sighed.

"What," his mouth twisted into a smile.

"It's you," she grinned.

"I was thinkin' the same thing," he leaned in and claimed her mouth in a kiss.


	16. Chapter 16

Logan woke up in the middle of the night to Jean's whimpering, and glass breaking somewhere in the house in response.

She was having a nightmare, most every night now. He knew the power was making a play for dominance over her, and it had a name. Phoenix. While she had expressed her concern for other members of the Brotherhood, Eric saw it as an accomplishment in her growth as a Mutant. That's why Eric so readily gave them pardons, he was seeking the Phoenix to turn the favor to his side.

She complained of headaches more often, and her moods were shaky at best. He tried to keep her comfortable, but he knew it was beyond them to control it. Logan never questioned where Phoenix disappeared to, though the steadily growing body count of Anti-Mutants told him all he didn't want to know. When she came to him in the early morning hours, Jean crawled into their bed and Logan wrapped his arms around her like he couldn't smell death on her.

"C'mon Red, sleep," Logan rubbed her back, trying to soothe her out of the nightmares.

He couldn't bear to tell her she was responsible for so many lives, she was never comfortable with using deadly force, even if it were the last resort.

It disturbed her to see the Brotherhood safehouse in shambles each morning, and curled into Logan's chest hoping the images of fire would stay away.

But each night they returned, making her burn.

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"Logan, what's happening to Jean?"

"She's power," he guzzled a gallon jug of water after his workout.

"Powerful?"

"No. Raw, untapped, untamed power," Logan emphasized.

"Is that why her moods are getting worse?"

"You see it, too?"

"Every day there's a bit more dark inside-" Betsy bit her lip, and Logan turned to see Jean standing there.

He hadn't sensed her at all, that was unusual.

"Talking about me," Jean smirked.

"Yes."

"Are you worried," she tilted her head, eyes glinting like cold steel.

"Your power is getting stronger," Betsy added.

"I think I'm handling it quite well," she smiled, kissing Logan's cheek.

For the first time, Logan saw fear in Betsy's eyes. She was afraid of Jean and what she was becoming.

"I'll talk to her," Logan walked up to their room.

"Logan, I don't know what's wrong with me," she sat on the floor with her back against the bed.

"I wish we could go back to the Mansion-" he thought out loud.

"No," she shouted through her tears.

"Easy Jean, I didn't say I was taking you back," he soothed, rubbing her back.

"If Xavier hadn't done that to me, I wouldn't be here."

"I know."

"I know Eric says this is a good thing, but I feel like I'm not going to make it," Jean turned into Logan's chest, shaking with quiet sobs as he held her.

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"Jean!"

Scott knew that walk, that hair anywhere. It had been weeks since Logan checked in to tell them he was with her and the Brotherhood. Now here she was. In Balitmore, of all places, at a human rights rally. He contemplated calling Storm, who stood just a few yeards away, but Jean could be gone by then. He kept her in sight, apologizing as he stumbled into people listening to the public speakers.

Jean," he grinned, relieved to see her.

"Scott, get back to your post," she whispered.

"You're not going to talk to me?"

"It's not a good idea."

"We were the best of friends, that has to change," Scott asked, hurt by her indifference.

"It's not good for you to be seen with me."

"Listen, I'm not here as X-Men. Can't we just get some coffee?"

"It's not safe," she shook her head.

"I don't care about what's safe."

"I'm doing it for you," she stated, disappearing into the crowd.

Scott watched the direction she went, and started forward as he saw a flash of red hair chasing a man down.

"Stop," Jean yelled.

She tripped the man, tackling him to the ground.

"You got a live one," a gruff voice startled Scott as the owner of the voice passed him.

"He has a gun," she wrenched his arms back, making the man groan in pain.

"Logan."

"Scooter," he smirked.

A woman helped Jean lead the man away, and Scott knew it was Mystique in one of her guises.

"We haven't heard from you for weeks!"

"I know that," Logan sighed.

"What's happening to Jean?"

"It's the power, Scott. She loses herself, and when she comes back, it scares her."

"Convince her to come home," Scott insisted.

"I can't do that," he shook his head.

"It's Jean, Logan!"

"I know damn well who it is, I love her," he snarled.

"Logan, darling...who is this," Betsy gave an icy smile to Scott.

"Gotta go."

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"Do you feel okay, Jean?"

"My head is splitting," she groaned, hugging the pillow tighter to her chest.

"Let's go my darlings, we have Anti-Mutant activity."

"X-Men are in town," Logan bushed it off.

"They need assistance, and we can't be fast enough getting there," Betsy answered gravely.

Jean got out of bed, slipping her arms into a long burgundy duster jacket.

"Stay behind this time."

"No way," she answered, sweeping downstairs like nothing had pained her.

Something in his gut begged him to follow her and haul her back to their room, but these days she would hurt him if he tried that even in fun. Unable to ignore the ache in his gut, he stalked downstairs.

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"JEAN!"

She stood apart from them all, X-Men and Brotherhood alike as Logan went to her, howling with the pain of his flesh being burnt away and replaced.

"Come to challenge me," the Phoenix grimaced.

"You're in there Jean, you're so much stronger than this."

"Stop it," the Phoenix demanded.

"I won't, it's Jean in there. You can be put back in your place, she only has to choose to."

The darkness faded a bit from her eyes, and Jean was there wide-eyed with horror at what had been done.

"Kill me now," she begged.

"No, please don't make me..."

Jean swayed with the effort of gaining control, looking exhausted.

"I love you," he gasped and ran his claws up into her ribcage.

She smiled faintly with her last breath, Logan sagged to the ground with her body in his arms.

"Logan," Storm's voice met his ringing ears.

"Don't take her from me," he snarled through the tears that choked him.

"Let's take her home now," Scott laid his hand on Logan's shoulder.

He stood slowly, both sides of the Mutant cause looking on Jean, carrying her body to the Blackbird.

"Please, can I go with you," Betsy asked Scott. "She was my friend."

Scott hesitated, unsure what to do with such a request.

"Let her," Logan's voice was hoarse as he began to climb the stairs.

Nothing about his homecoming was worth remembering, but everything was in sharp relief, her blood on the Blackbird floor, the new doctor named Hank McCoy, his long walk to the infirmary where he lay her body on a gurney.

He stood there, looking down at her still face, squeezing the siderail until it bent under his grip.

"God, Jean..." he rasped, bowing his head.

"Logan," Charles' voice cut through the silent room.

"Did you know it would end like this?"

"She made her choices-"

"Did you know," Logan snarled.

"No, I didn't."

Charles looked at her face a long moment, the placid unshakeable expression completely shattered.

"My bright girl," he whispered.


	17. Chapter 17

Logan lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Since Jean's death two days ago, he had barely moved. Ignoring hunger and thirst, he waited as more of her presence slipped away. He was going slowly mad, he knew because he could still hear her say his name, and he'd lift his head to look for her.  
_"What are you doing," she smiled.  
"I'm waiting for you."  
"Didn't mean to keep you waiting on me," Jean crawled onto the bed, straddling her legs on either side of his hips.  
"Wearin' just my shirt makes me think you did," he growled, rolling over so she was trapped under him.  
_"Logan. _Logan_..." Scott's voice interrupted the scenario Logan's mind had drifted to.  
"What now," he sighed.  
"She wouldn't want you to be like this."  
"She isn't here to scold me," Logan muttered.  
Scott held out a large bottle of brandy, smirking when Logan gave it the slightest of glances. Logan swiped it from Scott's hand as he sat up, giving the bottle a long look.  
"It won't open itself."  
Logan smiled humorlessly, breaking the seal. He took a few long gulps, passing the bottle back to Scott.  
"You did everything you could, Logan."  
"Did I?"  
Scott was disturbed by Logan's reply, unable to think of anything comforting to say.  
"She was my best friend, I could have done more," Scott spoke quietly.  
"No, there was nothing. She was born that way, so she died that way."  
"How did you do it, Logan? If she had asked me, I don't think I could have..."  
"Don't wanna talk about it, Summers."  
"I'm sorry," Scott's voice wavered.  
"You're grieving, kid. Don't worry about it," he squeezed Scott's shoulder and lay back on the bed, letting his mind wander again

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Logan opened his eyes, and as sleep cleared from his brain the realization that Jean was gone hit him all over again, dropping his head into his hands. He sat there until he stopped shaking, feeling brittle and old as he walked into the bathroom for a hot shower. Though it was nearly noon, Logan was in almost complete darkness, leaving the curtains drawn tight against the sun. It was Jean's funeral. Logan dressed in jeans and a black button-up shirt, rolling the sleeves with absentminded practice, eyeing the silver lighter she had given him for Christmas so long ago on the nightstand. He palmed it, trying not to feel the engraved signature against his skin, and left his room for the first time in a week.  
"Jubliee," he muttered.  
"I wanted to walk down with you," she replied nervously.  
"Thanks kid," he muttered.  
He wished he were back in bed, that he slept through the whole day. Each step brought him closer to the hard truth that she was really gone, and not just misplaced. He felt the shakes trying to claim his limbs once more, cracking the knuckles on both hands as he squeezed his fists tight to master his emotions.  
"Logan. Are you okay?"  
"Give me a minute," he asked, trying to slow his racing heart.  
Kurt presided over the service on the grounds behind the mansion. Logan didn't listen to any of the words being said, he didn't look at the urn that held her ashes or the marble memorial they would rest in. He recalled Betsy standing at his side, Scott laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. But he was beyond it, and he wasn't sure he'd ever be right again. An indestructible immortal man unable to cope with a heart that that wasn't physically injured, and therefore couldn't heal itself.  
"Lore says they rise from their ashes at the end of their life cycles," Charles appeared soundlessly at Logan's side as he stood there, watching the cold stone before him.  
"You called it an entity."  
"I did," Charles nodded.  
"You said it was part of her, an entity is something else entirely," he winced as his gut lurched upon passing the flame over the tip of his cigar with the lighter.  
"The blocks I put into her head...it split her mind in two. It was Jean, but a separate part, and became independent over time. More than that, it became intelligent, finally aking what it thought was due."  
Logan stood silent, knowing he didn't have to voice the same question he asked Charles before.  
"I had no idea this would be the outcome, there's never been a class five Mutant before her," Charles left their conversation at that and wheeled away.  
"Rise from their ashes," Logan repeated, tapping his own ashes from the end of the cigar. 

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Going from a crowded house to a sprawling mansion left Betsy feeling out of place, especially when Logan wasn't around to talk to her. Against her nature as an assassin, she was suddenly filled with conflicting emotions, fear that she wouldn't be accepted, guilt from once aiming to hurt the X-Men, and so many others that it left her head reeling. They tried to be accomodating, but the small talk always trickled off into an uncomfortable silence. Once that always hinted of her former alliance, and the circumstances of the woman they all cared for that brought her here. She was still Brotherhood in their eyes, though they trusted Logan implicitly, she had much to prove.Following Logan's subtle mental thread, she ended her search at the doors to the Danger Room.

"Well, at least he's left his room," she thought out loud, going to the obervation deck.

She happened to glance over at the viewing window choosing where she would sit, when she stopped dead in her tracks. Logan was in the middle of a session, limping as one arm dangled uselessly at his side. Even one or two rounds would never injure him so badly, and he always did away with the set controls. Something was very wrong.

"Logan," she spoke into the intercom, getting a blast of Godsmack in return.

She ran from the room as he was knocked down by Sabretooth and lay there as the hologram pummled him with single-minded focus, kill Wolverine. She hit the button for clearance into the bay, and was refused.

"What-" she hit the button again, a growing sense of dread choking her.

"No, no he can't be-" she pushed away from the doors and bypassed the elevator for the stairs.

"Betsy," Warren called as she knocked into him on the stairs.

Besty ran to the first person she could think of, opening Scott's door without knocking.

"Elizabeth," a curious eyebrow arched over his visor.

"It's Logan," she panted.

He pushed away from his desk, ignoring the confused questions as they ran to the Danger Room.

"When's the last time you saw him," she asked.

"He went in this morning at nine," he hit the button.

"I already tried that," she snapped. "He's been in there for more than eight hours with no restrictions on the program!"

"We have to get in there," Scott raised a hand to his visor, cutting the heavy steel like warm butter.

Betsy stood at the doors to the room itself as Scott shut down the program, shoving the doors aside as they slid open.

The floor was splattered with blood, Logan on the floor in a prone position. Jean had jokingly told her that even when he slept, he was ready for a fight; the sight of him now, looking so vulnerable scared her to death.

"Logan...oh, what have you done..." she gasped, yanking at his white tank top to check his wounds.

"Lemme be," he muttered.

"How dare you try and overwhelm your healing," she hissed in anger.

"It's my mutation, I've gotta test my limits."

"Trying to kill yourself is not testing limits!"

"Logan-" Scott asked.

"If seven hours in sessions hasn't done it, I'm thinkin' I have my work cut out for me," he attempted a smirk.

"Go to Hell, Logan," she whispered, leaving the room.

Logan rolled onto his good knee, holding his left arm as it began to mend.

"I feel like a jerk."

"That's one way to put it," Scott replied.

"Gimmie a hand."

He took Logan's good hand and helped him stand up.

"Were you trying-"

"Tryin' to feel somethin'," Logan sighed.

"You should tell her that."

"Won't believe me," he shrugged.

"You have to, she obviously thinks of you as a friend."

"I'll talk to her. Walk with me to the infirmary."

Logan walked in silence, wincing as the shoulder popped back into place.

"How ya doin'," he finally asked.

"Fine, I guess."

"Really," Logan pressed on.

"I think about her all the time. It can't only be three weeks."

Logan grunted in non-committal response.

"Are you okay," Scott asked.

"Doin' the best I can," he muttered, sighing heavily as Hank looked at his bloody and beaten appearance with open shock.

"What have you done to yourself," Hank McCoy pointed to the gurney.

"I cut myself shaving," Logan grunted.

Hank looked to Scott, who shook his head. Scott left the room, not knowing what else to do.

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"Betsy," Logan stood in the doorway to the living room.

He couldn't remember her ever looking fragile. Her and Jean had always been at each other's side, twin grins that could make even Eric smile. The two of them alone were trouble plenty, but if Mystique joined the duo, Logan tried his best not to get caught up in their ideas of having fun. Most of which did not include pillow fights or romance movies. They had a twisted version of Truth or Dare, Toad being the hapless victim more than most of the time.

"What."

"I wasn't tryin' to hurt myself."

She snorted in repsonse."

"I can't even feel anger, Bets! I'm numb," he shouted.

"You need to tell someone that," Betsy stood up, giving him an angry shove.

"I'm tellin' you now!"

"After you go and try to have your brains beaten to liquid? What if I hadn't walked into the obervation area, the sessions would have continued until your system was finally overwhelmed," her eyes glittered like hard jewels.

"I don't know that it can happen, I've tried before!"

"Suicide-" she began.

"A long time ago, before I came here," he explained, not offering any more.

"I miss her, too."

Logan bowed his head, struggling against the need to suddenly start howling in pain.

"You are my only friend. They try, they really do-" she corssed her arms, ashamed that she was close to crying in front of Logan.

"You've only defected to our side less than a month. It'll take time," he replied as gently as he could manage.

Betsy nodded, turning back to the television.


	18. Chapter 18

Kurt, Warren, and Scott invited Logan out to the Augar Inn, and to their surprise he accepted.  
"Is this up to your standards, Rich Boy," Logan smirked.  
"Not too loud, I'll have every girl searching through my pockets," Warren replied.  
"Won't find much," Logan's words were muffled as he lit a cigar.  
"I have nothin' but hundreds in my wallet!"  
"Not talkin' cash, Worthington the Third," Scott grinned, hooking his arm around Warren's neck.  
"Oh would you lay off," Warren shoved Scott away as they all laughed.  
"Sounds familiar. Somethin' Betsy said to you the other day," Logan spoke around the cigar between his teeth.  
"I don't know what you're talking about, Logan."  
"Warren, you're trying to romance the Brotherhood chick," Scott's eyebrows shot above his visor.  
"She's X-Men now," Logan reminded them.  
"And she isn't making it easy," Kurt chuckled.  
"Got that right, Elf. Too busy tryin' to prove herself," Logan tapped his ashes into a glass ashtray.  
"She'll come around to you, Warren."  
"Yeah," Logan flicked a gaze over the woman who had been staring at him for the last half hour.  
He hadn't meant for that to give her an invitation, but Logan knew he was one of those jerks women just couldn't resist. He muttered curses under his breath as she swung herself over to the table.  
"What's your name," she leaned into Logan's side, giving him an inviting smile.  
She was warm and she smelled good, something that would have been enough for him long ago. But now, she wasn't right, wasn't Jean.

"Logan," he grunted.

"I see you in here a lot, no wife?"

"No," he took a long chug of beer.

"Girlfriend," she asked.  
"I'm gonna head back," Logan muttered. Scott made to stand up as well, but the grieving Mutant shook his head, slapping a few bills on the table. "Get a cab on me."  
"Was it something I said," she asked.  
"He's not availiable," Kurt apologized.

"They always have a girlfriend," the woman sighed.  
He took the SUV back to the mansion, letting it idle in front of the open garage door. Returning Scott's SUV to its spot, he went back outside, straying off the walkway in the cold autumn air. His heart ached seeing the memorial for Jean, and he stood well away from it as he lit a cigar.

"Jean..." he sighed on an exhalation of smoke.  
Chances were good that memorial would last as long as he did.  
So then would his grief.

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The team assembled in the War Room for a meeting. Charles sat at the head of the table, Scott and Storm closest to him on either side. From Storm's left sat Hank, Kitty, Warren, Kurt and Rogue; to Scott's right Bobby, Remy, Jubilee, Betsy, and Logan.

"I have requested a private audience with the President on the matter of the Mutant Registration Act. I've already asked Scott to accompany me, and we agreed on four more representatives."

"I'd like to go," Betsy spoke up.

"Excellent, Ms. Braddock."

"I'll go," Warren offered.

Scott wrote down Warren's name, and then Rogue-

"I'm goin'," Logan announced.

The whole table turned to look at him.

"Tryin' the 'ask now, then kill' approach," Kurt joked.

"Might be fun," he smirked, amused with Kurt's humor.

"We have our four. Good. Be ready at nine o'clock."

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"I can't wear that."  
"You mean you won't," Betsy held out the black suit.  
"Just because I agreed to go as Charles' backup, doesn't mean I'm gonna dress CIA."  
"It's a meeting, everyone will be wearing suits," she reasoned.  
"No."  
"Logan," Betsy sighed, sitting at his desk chair. "Even I'll be wearing a suit."  
"I trust my gut, Braddock. It would just make me look obvious."  
"You're an operative, what you wear wouldn't matter," Betsy reminded.  
"You aren't going to get me to wear that," Logan shook his head.  
"If I were a green-eyed redhead you'd already have it on," Betsy muttered, turning wide fearful eyes on Logan.  
They hadn't spoken about Jean in months, and he nearly shouted at her simply because she expected that of him.   
"Probably."  
"Could you wear this, for me?"  
"Is this how you get Warren to do what you want?"  
"It doesn't take so much coaxing," Betsy blushed.  
"You don't mind that he was interested in Jean back in the day?"  
"He's not the first boy I've liked," she rolled her eyes.  
He chuckled.  
"You could at least try it on," she tried again.  
"If I try it on and I look ridiculous, you will not ask me again."  
"Promise," she grinned, smacking the hanger against his chest.  
Logan changed in the bathroom, refusing to look in the mirror. Betsy's reaction would tell him everything, and he stepped out, standing in front of her as if he were about to be executed.  
Her pupils went wide, lips parting with surprise. Apparently, she found this image of Logan very pleasing.  
"Wow."  
"You're joking."  
"No..." she stepped forward, smoothing the line of the jacket with a light touch.  
Logan pulled her close, he was so lonely, and Betsy's expression had triggered that in him. He dipped his face to hers, but Betsy put her hand to his cheek and shook her head.  
"You don't want this."  
"I don't," his forehead crinkled with confusion.  
"I'm not Jean," she put her hands firmly on his chest and disengaged.  
He stuffed his hands into the pants pockets, the loneliness roaring inside like a wounded animal.  
"I'll wear the shirt and jacket."  
"That's fair, as long as the jeans are nice," she smiled as if nothing had happened.  
"Fine."   
"You have to clean up your boots," she reminded as she pulled his door closed.  
"I get it, Braddock." 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A smirk graced Logan's lips, he as hard to impress, and the leader of the free world didn't seem worth too much praise or judgment. He was a man like any other. Hell, Scott could easily do this job.  
"Mister President, we understand the concern to have Mutants registered. However, would you be willing to have every blue-eyed American registered, with their name and address known to the public?"  
"Every President has worked closely with your cause, Mister Xavier-"   
He knew he was just the muscle, but something nagged at him to say something.  
_"Professor."_  
"Yes?"  
"Not you, Charlie. The man who can't get your title right," he jerked his chin at the President.  
"Excuse me," the President looked at Logan with open shock.  
"He is not Mister, he is Professor. He addresses you with your title out of respect, so be polite an' do the same."  
"Logan, I appreciate your-"  
"And another thing-"Logan spoke over Charles.  
Betsy was trying not to die of holding in her laughter as Charles winced, having to double her efforts when she spotted a twitch in Scott's cheek.  
"We do you a service, one we do not ask payment for, or recognition. A service your fine military cannot give you alone, one that I served in before your grandpa was even thought of. Protecting everyone, Mutant and Human is our perogative. Register every Mutant, and the service goes away because we can't have our lives as we're getting run out of every town that doesn't accept us. We only want to live as everyone else is allowed to. Is it too much for us to want our privacy as well?"  
Charles nearly grinned with pride at Logan taking a stand in something, no matter that his participation was completely spontaneous.  
"Your bodyguard has a good point," the President admitted.  
"Not just a pretty face," Logan snorted.  
"He slices and dices, even makes julien fries," Betsy smiled.  
"Before we discuss lunch, do we have an agreement that Mutants remain unregistered," Charles asked.  
"Yes, Professor Xavier. We have that agreement."  
As the meeting closed, the President shook Scott's hand.  
"I wonder, where is that lovely young woman that accompanied you and the Professor at my inauguration," he asked.  
"She wasn't able to make it," Logan lied.  
"I'm sorry to hear that."  
"Thank you," Scott was thankful for Logan's guiding hand on his shoulder.  
"You okay, kid."  
"Wasn't expectin' it," he spoke as if he were punched in the gut.  
"I know, let's get outta here."  
They left the White House, staying at the hotel for lunch before heading back to the mansion in the Blackbird. Logan slouched as best he could in the jet seats, pulling a black cowboy hat over his face so Betsy wouldn't try to talk to him. He had almost forgotten about Jean today, and it hurt to know she was still fading away, afraid that one day the feel of her skin would even escape him. Storm landed the jet, tapping on Logan's hat to get his attention.

"Home again," she replied.

He sighed and heaved himself out of the chair and stalked down the stairs.  
"You were very eloquent today, Logan. I'm proud," Betsy smiled, walking into the mansion with Warren.  
"Yeah, aren't I just the scholar now," he muttered. 


	19. Chapter 19

Remy stuck his head into the living room as Rogue flipped channels.

"It's a nice day," he commented.

"Hadn't looked outside."

"Want ta join' me, get some sun?"

"Sure, why not," she tossed the remote to Bobby and walked to the french doors.

Rogue enjoyed Remy's company, and smiled to herself until she looked up and saw where he was leading them both. She felt her throat tighten as he continued purposely, sitting in front of Jean's memorial.

"Why are we here," she asked, tugging at her long white gloves.

"It's a good spot to be," he answered. "Sit."

Rogue flicked wary glances at the memorial as she sat down next to Remy, who was leaning back on his hands with a contemplative smile.

"Why is it no one will talk about her in more than a hushed voice," he asked aloud.

"They're afraid of Logan gettin' angry," she guessed. "He loved her."

"'e loves her still, cher," Remy answered quietly.

Remy stood up, rubbing the stone as if it were a person's back.

"Hello, cher."

"What are ya doin'," Rogue asked.

"Just because she's dead doesn't mean all of 'er is gone. Don't you talk to 'er?"

"Sometimes, at night."

Whenever Rogue couldn't sleep, Jean was always waiting for her in the kitchen with a deck of cards to play Go-Fish. It was a kid's game, but she liked it all the same because Jean made her feel good. After Jean's death, she had snuck into Jean's bedroom and stolen the deck for herself.

"See, even you know she's around to hear you," he smiled.

"Do you think Logan talks to her?"

"Like she's standin' right at his side," Remy nodded.

"He never comes out here."

"Only as far as you know. I see Scott out here every time he feels lost, that's 'is way. But Logan, 'e will have his own methods."

"Drinkin' an' fightin'," she asked, doubtful those methods were helpful.

"Non, that's how 'e deals with the pain, cher. It gets to be too much, even for a man like 'im."

Rogue stood up, hesitantly reaching out her hand to the memorial. When her fingers came in contact with the stone, her heart lurched in her chest, and she felt Remy's hand toucher her shoulder as tears filled her eyes.

"Are you touchin' mah skin," she asked, overwhelmed by sadness.

"Non, it's your grief."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jubliee had been acting strangely around him for the last few days, unusually quiet. It picked at his nerves, to see her looking at him in silence. She was angry about something, and it had been stewing for a long time.

"Out with it, Sparky," he finally said nonchalantly as they sat in the kitchen.

"You didn't even think about us!"

"It was Jean," he replied.

"What about the rest of us that needed you!"

"You had this whole team, Jean had no one," he shouted.

"She left! She left us, she even left you! How could you follow after her?"

"She left because she cared more that we were safe. If she had been selfish, she would have stayed. When you grow up and find your mate, you'll understand why I did what I did."

Jubliee had nothing to say as Logan left the room.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Betsy looked through her closet with distaste. She had finally agreed to a date with Warren, and nothing seemed right for the occasion. A smile crossed her features, thinking of a full closet, a playground for a woman with nothing good to wear. Betsy headed for Jean's room. With a happy bounce to her step, she let herself into the room, and opened the closet with a flourish.

"Hello, my darlings!"

She flicked her fingers over each hanger, growing happier by the minute as all of Jean's clothes called out to her. They spent hours like this, ooh-ing and aah-ing over each other's clothes, estatic that they were the same size. Clearly it was a sign that one should have many, many choices! Moving the clothes around stirrred up Jean's scent, light exotic spices mixed with a sweet carnation. Finally, as if a chorus of angels sang out, the perfect sweater caught her eye. Betsy slipped it off the hanger and held it up, turning to ask Jean's opinion...

Then she realized, she had never borrowed these clothes before, she had never been into Jean's room at the mansion. All of Jean's belongings were back with the Brotherhood.

A sob left her mouth before she could stifle it.

Jean was really gone.

_"I have nothin' to wear, my little red corvette," Betsy sighed dismally._

_"But mercedes, have no fear," Jean opened her closet and gestured like Vanna White._

_"I have seen heaven, and it looks like a department store," Betsy practically drooled._

_"Bets, you must wear this," Jean pulled a red dress from the hanger._

_"Only if you really, really, truly-"_

_"Put it on, already," Jean rolled her eyes._

_"Yes, my leader!"_

Betsy crawled to the telephone, and dialed a number.

"Yeah?"

"Mystique."

"Hello, traitor."

"I want Jean's things."

"Then come get 'em," Mystique challenged.

"You liked her as well, and she was fond of you. Take whatever you want."

A pause on the line made Betsy think Mystique had hung up on her. "All right."

Women had a bond with clothes that could negate anything that kept them as enemies.

"Can we meet later this week?"

"Coffee shop," she asked.

"I'll be there at eleven."

Betsy returned the reciever to the cradle, and looked over her shoulder at the sweater. With a sniff, she picked it up and held it to her chest. Sitting in Jean's room felt comfortable, though the presence that lingered left her looking around the room for Jean anyhow, just waiting for red hair and a smiling face to pop out from the bathroom.

She took a picture from the nightstand, looking at that familiar face that brought humor and goodness back into her soul. It was a much earlier photo, before they had met, but it was that same face she instantly loved. Hopefully Mystique would remember the pictures, too.

Betsy picked herself up off the floor, took a pair of high-heeled boots in hand to borrow as well, and returned to her room.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Logan lay in bed, unable to sleep. He hadn't gone back to Jubliee yet to patch things up, he was just too angry to talk about it.

He heard familiar shoes, a sound he had memorized long ago and thought he'd never hear again.

His heart leapt, and he moved off his bed and out the door like a demon chased him through hell.

In the dark hall, a long-haired woman stopped outside Warren's room with him, leaning into his side.

"Jean," he growled, grabbing her wrist.

"Logan!"

"What are you doing," Warren shouted.

"You stay away from her," he snarled.

"Logan, it's me," Betsy replied.

He paused, his image of Jean fading as Betsy's frightened eyes came into focus.

"You smell just like her."

"I borrowed her sweater and boots. You remember, we used to borrow each other's clothes-"

He dropped Betsy's wrist, backing away slowly.

"I'm so sorry Logan, I didn't think," she pleaded with him.

He clutched at his hair, panting as a growl started deep in his chest.

"Get inside the room," Warren pushed her gently.

"No, Logan needs us!"

"It's not him," he grabbed Betsy's shoulder.

"What?"

"That's Wolverine, I've seen it before. Get the sweater off, now!"

Betsy ducked into Warren's bedroom, removing the sweater and boots, trying to get her arms into one of his button-up shirts.

"Logan."

"Shut up," a menacing voice replied.

Betsy peeked out into the hall, trembling with fear she thought she had long since trained out of her system.

"C'mon man, take it easy."

"She smells like my woman," Wolverine spoke, eyes dark.

"But Jean is dead."

"I don't want her touchin' Jean's things," Wolverine demanded.

"Okay, she won't! Let's go get a drink or something," Warren offered.

"Don't need you," he unleashed his adamantium claws.

"Okay, just let me take Betsy back to her room, and you can take Jean's clothes out of mine in the meantime."

He grunted, a sign Warren better get moving. He reached in, holding Betsy close to his side as they walked past Logan.

"If I had known..."

"Not even I thought that would happen," Warren assured her.

"Will you stay with me?"

"Sure."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wolverine ripped Warren's door off the hinges with his claws, leaving gouge marks in the wood. But as soon as he saw Jean's clothes discarded on the floor, he reverently picked them up, and stalked to her old room. Logan had been in her room plenty of times, so much that he left a bottle of Jack Daniel's in her nightstand drawer. Laying her clothes on the bed, she reached into the nightstand and opened the bottle, drinking all three-quarters of the biggest bottle he could find.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Logan was drunk, and he was angry. Angry that Jean would leave him, that he could be so lonely. Wolverine had faded away with Jean's scent filling his nose, a balm that hurt as much as it eased. But he still felt restless, he need to hurt something, to get this feeling out of him somehow. Dropping Jean's sweater, he sprinted down the stairs and smashed right through the french doors that led outside. Ignoring the security alarms, he moved across the grounds with single-minded purpose. With an enraged shout, he unleashed his laws and ripped open the memorial, grabbed the urn, only to wrench open the lid and stare into an empty container.  
"Logan, come back inside-" Storm saw the urn in his hand as he stalked past.  
"Charles," Logan shouted, taking the stairs two at a time.  
"What have you done," Storm yelled after him, the whole house responding to the disturbance in their wake.

"Storm," Scott asked, his skin becoming pale as Logan kicked open the Professor's door.  
"Charles, where are her ashes," Logan demanded.  
"They were in that urn when we closed the memorial...I do not know where they've gone."  
"Easy, they were stolen," he snapped.  
"Who wants ashes, Logan," Stom demanded.  
"I don't know, you try and make it make sense!"

"Logan, I don't know why they are gone," Charles replied.

"Charlie, don't lie ta me," Logan pleaded.

"I would never," Charles looked at Logan with calm determination.

"Then where are the damn ashes!"

"Think about it, you'll realize the answer."

"Don't talk riddles to me," Logan whispered, his nerves unraveling.

"Logan, you need to sleep."

"Don't put that in my head, I'm warnin' you!"

"Sleep," Charles repeated, and Logan sunk to the floor.


	20. Chapter 20

"Can't believe ya did that to me, Charlie," Logan muttered.

"What good would it have done you if you had left?"

"You were in my head that whole time," he shook his head.

"I had to know the appropriate action to take," Charles explained.

Appropriate action? Logan wanted to tell Charles a thing or two about 'appropriate action', but he was tired of going round and round about Jean. He sat up, examining his large palms. Jean had always took hold of his hands as if they were precious, he had never been treated with such tenderness before.

"Answer me straight, Charlie."

"The ashes," Charles prompted.

"Damn right, the ashes."

"If Jean had died without the Phoenix within her, then her ashes might still be there."

"She's not dead," Logan concluded.

"I've heard her in my mind, whispers."

"When is she comin' back."

"I do not know, Logan."

"I have to go find her," he pushed himself off the gurney.

"You must be patient. When she's ready, she will come home."

"Charles-"

"That is her orders, not mine. She asks for time."

Logan was desperate to hear if she had told Charles anything to pass on for him, but he was still angry and confused, and stubbornly refused to ask.

"I've got time."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Let me go with you."

"Warren, if you go she'll think there's something wrong," Betsy smiled.

"I don't like the thought of you going alone."

"I was thinking...I should ask Logan."

His body stiffened, working his jaw to keep it shut. Warren was still angry about the way Logan reacted.

"Okay, ask him."

"See you this evening," she smiled, leaving a smile on his lips after she kissed him.

"Take my car."

She turned, giving him a wicked smile. "If you insist."

Betsy had no problem with going alone to Baltimore, but she didn't blame Logan for his actions, and she wanted to try and make things better between them. She walked into the garage, taking the keys to Warren's car.

"Where are you goin'," Logan gruffed.

"Baltimore."

The sound of tinkering with the engine ceased. Betsy turned, Logan reasted one arm on the edge of the car, his arm extended into the motor. He had an expression on his face she couldn't read.

"Do you want to go with me?"

"Depends, why go back there," he muttered.

"I called Mystique, I'm meeting her so I can get Jean's belongings back."

Logan stood up, staring into the engine, contemplating his choice.

"Let me get this off my hands first, Warren'll have a hissy fit if I get his interior dirty."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Though Mystique never used an image twice, Betsy knew her from her alert posture, watching everything.

"You look different," Mystique held out the bag.

"Thank you," Betsy whispered, holding the bag reverently.

"Why bother with them?"

"You know why I bother with them."

"She's dead. People die, that's the way of things..." Mystique fell silent.

"She was our friend."

"Would you want my things if I died," Mystique challenged.

"I'd still die for you, Raven."

"The thing is, I wouldn't die for you, Elizabeth."

"Well, you always did like to save your own neck, didn't you."

"It's all I know," Mystique shrugged.

"I understand, it's your nature."

"And how is the animal over there," she gestured to Logan leaning against a tree trunk.

"He misses her."

"It's weak," Mystique shook her head.

"You know how it is to love someone."

"I hope I never see you again," Mystique whispered.

She knew what that meant, she didn't want to have to fight and possibly kill Betsy.

"Same goes for you."

Mystique walked out of the coffee shop, smirking at the snort Logan gave her by way of greeting. He saw Betsy bent over the bag, looking through the contents, and pushed the door open to join her.

"Lookin' for somethin' inparticular," he asked.

A stifled sob told him the answer, she clutched the object to her chest for a moment, then handed it back to him. It was a picture of Betsy and Jean, looking like they were on vacation and not part of a rebel organization.

"C'mon, let's get back to Westchester," he took the handles of the large bag and headed out the door.

He tossed the bag into the trunk and took a seat on the passenger side without complaint.

"You're quiet."

"Don't talk much," he smirked.

"Okay Logan, you play silent cowboy then," she muttered.

"Got something to tell you, Betsy."

"What is it?"

"There's a reason why the ashes are gone."

"The reason being?"

He blew a breath out. "She isn't dead."

Betsy turned to look at him, taking the steering wheel in the same direction. Logan calmly reached over and corrected as the cars around them honked their horns like startled birds.

"Wh-what?"

"She's comin' back to us."

"She is? How do you know," Betsy spoke as if the breath was stolen from her lungs.

"Charles' has heard her speaking to him."

"I need to pull over, I can't breathe!"

"There's an exit, take the wheel."

Betsy took the exit, pulling into a gas station. Betsy got out of the car, pacing around with her hands on her head.

"Oh my God, oh my God..." she muttered.

Logan walked around the car to her, and she punched him in the chest, swinging at him until he could grab hold of her wrists.

"What the hell, Betsy?!"

"Are you dull-witted?! Telling me that when I am driving!"

"Well, I...I didn't think," he stuttered.

"No, you didn't!"

"No! I didn't," he shouted back.

They stared at each other a long moment, and then Betsy put her hands to her mouth, starting to laugh.

"What now?"

Betsy's eyes were shining with too many tears. "She's coming back to us."

Logan smiled faintly, chuckling as Betsy launched herself at his chest.

"When?"

"She needs time, I don't know how long."

"But she is coming back to us," Betsy smiled, happier than she had been in a long time.

"Yeah, she is."


	21. Chapter 21

Logan turned his head toward the television monitor as the buzzer at the gate sounded. He leaned over, brow creased in confusion. No one was there. Hitting a button, he got another camera angle.

The buzzer continued.

"Stupid thing is broken," he muttered, going back to the fridge.

"_Get the Professor_," Jean's voice crackled.

Logan whipped his head around, pupils blotting out the color in his eyes.

_"Go!"_

He stumbled from the kitchen, heart hammering against his ribs as he ignored his teammates and students calling after him. Letting his knuckles brush the door, he burst inside Charles' personal quarters.

"Charlie," he panted.

"She wants us to tranquilize her," he stared down at the gate calmly.

"What, why?"

"She doesn't know if she's dangerous."

"Should I go get-"

"I'm here, Professor," Hank interrupted.

"Give Logan the syringe. He goes out to her alone."

Logan took the syringe from Hank, trying not to crush it in his fist as he left the room.

"Logan, what's going on," Rogue asked.

"Stay inside," he requested.

It was a cold day though the sun was out, dead autumn leaves dancing over the browning grass.

"Stop there."

He glanced around, finally seeing her. She stood back in the line of trees outside the gates, most of her in shadow.

"Jean."

"The Professor has to confirm that first."

His nostrils twitched, catching her scent on the air. "Smells like you."

"Put the syringe on the ground," she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Jean."

"Do it, Logan."

He placed it on the ground, watching as she brought it to her hand with her teke.

"If you wanted to hurt us, you would have by now."

"I want to be sure," she rolled up her sleeve and pierced the skin with the needle, pushing the plunger down.

"Jean."

Her knees gave way, Logan pulled the gate open and caught her before her head could hit the concrete. His heart skittering wildly like the fragile leaves, he took a moment to caress the skin of her jaw with his fingers.

"What's this," Ororo's skin grew ashen as her eyes feel on Jean, accepting Betsy's arms to steady her on shaky knees.

Hank and Xavier were waiting by an empty bed.

"I want to stay," Logan spoke quietly.

"Hank and I have a lot of tests, none you should be here for."

"What if she wakes up?"

"We have to work quickly. Go," Charles placed a clear dome over her head.


	22. Chapter 22

Logan paced the hall outside the infirmary, with Storm and Scott leaning against the wall, Betsy sat on the floor watching Logan's boots as she counted his steps.  
Hank stepped out, adjusting his glasses.  
"You can see her, one person at a time-" Hank trailed off as Logan walked right past him.  
Dressed in a pale hospital gown, Jean was occupied with the machines hooked to her body, hands folded on the blanket that covered her legs. Logan paused at the bed, staring at her until she looked away.  
"Are you all right?"  
She did smile then, blinking back tears. Her skin was so white; he could easily see the blue of her veins underneath, freckles standing out in stark contrast.  
"Jean," he asked cautiously.  
"Far from perfect...but I'll live," she whispered, her throat dry.  
Logan lay next to her on the bed, his breath tickling her neck. Laughter bubbled up in her throat as Logan groaned with contentment at the feel of her fingers caressing his jaw line. Until that moment, he hadn't realized just how long it had been since he saw her last. Two long years, all bled together as he mourned and waited for her.  
"Do you regret coming back," he asked.  
"Never, I've waited so long for you," her answer was honest, but hesitant.  
"Then what is it?"  
"Whatever that was, the place I was in before...there wasn't any suffering, there wasn't any sickness or war. I can remember it, and now that things are coming back to me I'm just grieving the loss of it," Jean sighed heavily, wanting to shed the heavy burden of the Other Side.  
"That's how you were to us."  
"Near the end, all you did was suffer, everyone did."  
"No, even then I loved you," he buried his head in her hair and breathed in deep.  
"I love you..." Jean gave a shuddering sigh.  
"What's wrong?"  
"It's going to take me awhile to be myself again."  
"I'm here."  
Another sigh came from her lips, this time bearing the sound of her sadness easing.

"You didn't have to wait for me, Logan."

"There wasn't anyone who would have me," he smirked.

"Well, you always were too much to handle," Jean picked up the hand that lay on her hip, so very glad to feel his warmth again, the long fingers she could always feel reaching for her as she existed as stardust out there in the ether.

"Jean…"

She closed her eyes to rest just a little more, bringing herself back together made her so very tired…  
Jean woke up at the touch of Logan's fingers moving hair out of her face.  
"What are you doing?"  
"Making sure you were real," he didn't smile, but the happiness shone bright in his eyes.  
"I'm real," she smiled.


	23. Chapter 23

_Rogue.  
_Rogue shifted in bed, ignoring the voice in her head.  
_Rogue, wake up._  
A vague sound of protest escaped her lips, coming out of her deep sleep.  
_Come downstairs, sweetheart. I can't sleep._  
Rogue's eyes opened, and a smile crept along her lips. She flew down the stairs like a dancer, light in step and moving along in the dark with practiced ease.  
"I couldn't find the cards," Jean admitted.  
Rogue reached into her pocket, smiling bashfully as she held up the deck.

Logan woke up suddenly, Jean was gone from his bed. Following her scent downstairs, he pushed the kitchen door open to find Jean and Rogue sitting at the table playing Go-Fish.

"Did you want to play, as well," Jean teased, looking over her cards at him with mischievous eyes.

He snorted while shuffling over to the fridge, grabbing a beer. Logan stood behind Jean's chair, looking at her cards. Rogue gave him a look that said '_help me out',_ and held up three fingers, then four.

"What are you doing," Jean turned in her chair.

"Nothing," he smiled.

"You cheat," she reached out to grab his shirt.

"She's playing with a telepath," Logan reasoned, Rogue covered her grin with her cards.

"I promise no powers, and I do not break that promise," Jean replied, cupping her cards so Logan couldn't see.

Logan leaned down, placing his head next to Jean's, and kissed her cheek. Jean muttered 'flirt' as her cheeks pinked up.

"Ah four, Jean," Rogue asked innocently.

"Here," she chuckled, Logan kissed her jaw.

"And ah three, perhaps," Rogue rolled her eyes as Logan placed his lips on her shoulder.

"Logan, you stop that," Jean tapped him on the head with her cards.

"I'm goin' back to bed," he muttered in her ear.

"I'll be up when we're done," she smiled.

Logan growled, leaving the room. He turned back when he heard Jean and Rogue start to laugh at his expense, and continued to grumble as he walked back to his room.

He lay awake when Jean slipped through the door vlose to three in the morning. She crawled onto the bed and smiled as Logan grabbed her close, now content that he had her to himself again.

"Didn't miss me, did you?"

Logan kissed her, making her smile.

"Are you going to start teaching again?"

She nodded.

"Training," he asked.

"I'm not ready."

"You don't trust yourself," Logan accused.

"I don't want to test my limits, I'm afraid if I don't have any," Jean admitted.

"I'll train you, I can take a beating," he reassured.

"Up for taking one now," she grinned.

"I told you, whenever you're ready," he answered seriously.

Though he had her in his bed every night, he left the state of their relationship up to her, to move along at whatever speed she was comfortable with. She chuckled softly and placed a kiss on his lips, sighing happily as Logan slipped his hands under her tank top. Logan took care to let her set the pace, laying his hands flat to her exposed skin, soft and warm.

As they moved together, he lifted his head to look at her, her face bright even in the dark. "Jean."

"I love you, Logan."


End file.
